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MANUAL  OF  READING. 


IN    FOUR    PARTS: 

ORTHOPHONY,  CLASS  METHODS,  GESTURE, 
AND  ELOCUTION. 

DESIGNED  FOR  TEACHERS  AND  STUDENTS. 
By  H.  L.  D.  POTTER 


NEW   YORK: 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 

18  77. 


EDUCATION  DEPT. 

Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

Harper   &   Brothers, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PREFACE. 


This  work  is  prepared  with  three  objects  in  view:  com- 
pleteness',  that  nothing  be  wanting  to  assist  the  teacher  or 
student  of  reading ;  correctness,  that  nothing  erroneous 
be  learned ;  and  brevity,  that  its  price  be  within  the  means 
of  every  person  desiring  it. 

To  teach  reading  properly,  we  must  possess  the  knowl- 
edge or  avail  ourselves  of  the  assistance  of  the  following 
works,  viz. :  a  work  on  Calisthenics,  or  chest  development; 
Orthophony,  or  voice-training ;  Elocution,  as  a  science  ; 
Gesture,  or  action ;  and  Rhetoric,  in  order  to  review  the 
selections  which  are  read  in  class  from  time  to  time. 

This  Manual  is  intended  to  combine  all  the  essential 
qualities  of  these  books. 

Part  First  contains  Orthophony,  or  Voice-training,  in- 
cluding Calisthenics ;  Part  Second,  the  most  popular  and 
practical  Class  Methods,  both  primary  and  advanced ; 
Part  Third,  Gesture ;  and  Part  Fourth,  Elocution,  includ- 
ing a  chapter  on  Rhetoric. 

The  following  works  have  been  consulted  during  its 
preparation  :  Dr.  Push  on  the  Voice,  "  Bell's  Anatomy 
of  Expression,"  Webster's  and  Worcester's  Dictionaries, 
Vandenhoff's  "Art  of  Elocution,"  and  Murdoch's  and 
Russell's  "Vocal  Culture." 

Thanking  William  A.  Wheeler,  of  Boston,  and  Miss 
Emily  A.  Rice,  formerly  of  the  Normal  and  Training 
School  in  Oswego,  1ST.  Y.,  now  principal  of  a  ladies'  school 
in  Darien,  Conn.,  for  valuable  suggestions,  this  little  work 
is  respectfully  submitted  to  the  public. 


!v:£09503 


HOW  TO  USE  THIS  MANUAL  WITHOUT  A 
TEACHER. 

The  following  series  of  graded  lessons  may  serve  as  a 
guide  to  another  plan  more  or  less  difficult,  as  may  be  re- 
quired. If  the  lessons  are  too  long  as  you  proceed,  alter- 
nate some  of  the  exercises  day  by  day,  or  omit  a  few  of 
the  easier  ones.  Thirty  minutes'  continuous  vocal  exercise 
should  be  succeeded  by  at  least  thirty  minutes'  rest. 

First  Week.     Daily  Exercises. 

1 .  Rub  the  chest  with  the  hand  or  brush  every  morning. 

2.  Percussion  (page  25). 

3.  Sustain  one  note  of  the  scale  (page  20). 

4.  Count  as  many  as  possible  (page  21). 

5.  Repeat  a  line  or  couplet  (page  21). 

G.  Learn  the  definitions  (one  or  two  each  day)  on  page  115. 

7.  Memorize  one  stanza  each  day  of  some  favorite  poem  (see  page  86). 

Second  Week.     Daily  Exercises. 

1.  Chafe  the  chest,  and  percuss,  as  in  the  first  week  (page  25). 

2.  Take  the  single  thrust  exercise  (page  25). 

3.  Sustain  the  three  first  notes  of  the  scale  (page  58). 

4.  Read  the  examples  for  monotone  upon  each  of  the  three  notes  (page  59). 

5.  Count  (page  21),  and  repeat  a  line  or  couplet  (page  21). 

6.  Practice  Fig.  1  of  Table  11  (page  13),  and  dissyllables  (page  16). 

7.  Learn  facts  on  page  117,  and  practice  five  of  the  examples  on  page  55, 

8.  Memorize  one  or  more  stanzas  each  day  (page  86). 

Third  Week.     Daily  Exercises. 

1.  Chafe,  percuss,  and  add  the  double  to  the  former  thrust  exercise  (page  26). 

2.  Sustain  jive  notes  of  the  scale,  and  read  upon  each  key  in  monotone  (p.  59). 

3.  Count  and  repeat  a  couplet,  aloud  and  in  a  whisper  (page  21). 

4.  Practice  Fig.  1  and  Fig.  2  (page  13),  and  dissyllables,  and  trisyllables  (p.  16). 

5.  Learn  facts  on  page  118,  in  connection  with  the  table  (page  116). 

6.  Memorize  as  usual,  and  practice  ten  examples  (page  55). 

Fourth  Week.     Daily  Exercises. 

1.  Chafe,  percuss,  and  take  2, 3, 4  chest  exercises  (pages  25  and  26). 

2.  Sustain  five  notes  of  the  scale,  and  read  upon  each  of  them. 

3.  Count,  and  repeat  stanzas  aloud,  and  in  an  intense  whisper. 

4.  Practice  Figs.l,  2, 3, Table  11  (p.  13),  Figs.  1,  2,  Table  10  (p.  12),  and  page  16. 

5.  Practice  15  examples  (page  55),  and  drifting  exercises  (page  59). 

6.  Memorize  prose  or  poetry. 

Note. — Continue  in  this  way  until  you  have  mastered  every  table  and  every 
exercise,  also  the  entire  scientific  portion  of  the  Manual. 


CONTEN  TS. 


TABLES. 

Page 

No.    1 .  Orthophony,  or  Voice  -  culture 1 

No.    2.  Vowel  Elements  of  the  English  Language 2 

No.    3.  Consonant  Elements  of  the  English  Language .' 4 

-v-       .     (Vowel  Combinations,  Diphthongs,  etc G 

(Dissyllabic  Vowel  Combinations G 

No.    5.  Vowel  Digraphs 7 

No.    G.  Units  of  Speech 8 

No.    7.  Classification  of  the  Subtonics  and  Atonies 9 

No.    8.  Consonant  Combinations 10 

No.    9.  Consonant  Combinations  continued 11. 

No.  10.  Vocal  Gymnastics^— Force  and  Pitch 12 

No.  11.  Vocal  Gymnastics — Stress 13 

No.  1 2.  Vocal  Gymnastics — Fitch,  or  Inflection 14 

No.  1 3.  Vocal  Gymnastics — Pitch  and  Force  combined 15 

No.  14.  Accent 16 

No.  15.  Words  for  Practice  by  contrast 35 

No.  16.  List  in  Substitution  of  Vowel  Sounds 37 

No.  17.  List  in  Omission  of  Consonant  Sounds 39 

No.  1 8.  List  in  Addition  of  Sounds 40 

No.  19.  Words  to  practice — Contrasts  No.  1  and  No.  2 41 

No.  20.  Words  to  practice— Contrasts  No.  3  and  No.  4 42 

No.  21.  Words  to  practice — Contrasts  No.  5,  No.  6,  and  No.  7 43 

No.  22.  Pronunciation — Rules  and  Examples 44 

No.  23.  Terminations — el  and  en 45 

No.  24.  Reading-class  Formula 73 

No.  25.  Composition 88 

No.  26.  Gesture _. ...  100 

No.  27.  Vocal  Gymnastics — Orthoepy,  Pitch,  Force,  and  Time 114 

No.  28.  Orthoepy 116 

No.  29.  Elements  of  Language 130 

No.  30.  Pitch 138 

No.  31.  Force 154 

No.  32.  Time 164 

Examples  for  Declamatory  Gesture 112,  113 


VI  *  CONTENTS. 

PART  I.— ORTHOPHONY. 

Hygienic  Suggestions:  page 

Food 17 

Clothing 18 

Exercise 18 

Sleep 19 

General  Exercises  : 
I.  Respiration. 

1.  Inspiring 19 

2.  Expiring 20 

3.  Sighing 20 

4.  Gasping 20 

5.  Panting 20 

6.  Sobbing 20 

II.  Intonation. 

1 .  Sustaining 20 

2.  Counting 21 

3.  Repeating 21 

4.  Repeating  in  a  Whisper 21 

5.  Laughing 21 

6.  Intoning  with  Changes  of  Force 21 

7.  Intoning  with  Changes  of  Force  and  Pitch 21 

Calisthenics  : 

I.  Positions  for  Hygienic  Exercise * 23 

1.  Chest  Series 25 

2.  Shoulder  Series 26 

3.  Elbow  Series 28 

4.  Arm  Series. ' .  29 

5.  Hand  Series 30 

G.  Head  and  Neck  Series 31 

7.  Trunk  Series 31 

II.  Direction  of  Movement 32 

III.  Order  of  Movement 32 

IV.  Manner  of  Movement 33 

V.  Time  of  Movement 33 

Articulation  : 

Defects,  Causes,  and  Remedies : 

1.  Weak  Utterance 34 

2.  Thick  Utterance 34 

3.  Lisping .• 34 

4.  Stammering 36 

Enunciation  : 

1.  Substitution  of  Sounds  in  Syllables 37 

2.  Omission  of  Sounds  in  Syllables. 39 

3.  Addition  of  Sounds  in  Syllables 40 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

Pronunciation  :  paga 

Tables  for  Practice 44 

Rules  for  Pronunciation 46,  47 

Reading  Exercises 55 


PAET  II— CLASS  METHODS. 

Primary  Class  Methods 65 

Analytical  or  Objective  Methods 6Q 

Synthetical  Methods 68 

Phonic  Method.. 70 

Advanced  Class  Methods 73 

I.  Reading-class  Formula.. 73 

II.  Explanation  of  the  Formula 74 

1.  Pronouncing  Words 74 

2.  Analyzing  Words. 74 

3.  Phonic  Spelling 7.» 

4.  Elocution — Facts  and  Drill 76 

5.  Calisthenics,  or  Gesture 76 

6.  Selections 78 

7.  Reviews 86 

8.  Memorizing  Literature. 86 

9.  Examination  of  the  Advance  Lesson 87 

III.  Standard  Methods 78 

IV.  Occasional  Methods 81 

Literary  Composition — a  Chapter  of  Rhetoric 89 


PAET  III.— GESTURE. 

Feet 101 

Head 102 

Arms .102 

Hands..... ..; ...  102 

How  to  explain  Direction 104 

How  to  teach  Declamatory  Gesture 105 

Facial  Expression 108 

Twenty-six  general  Rules  and  Suggestions 1 09 

Examples  for  Practice  of  Declamatory  Gesture 112 


CONTENTS. 


PART  IV.— ELOCUTION. 

Pag* 

Elocution — Vocal  Gymnastics 115 

Orthoepy '.. — "... 117 

I.  Articulation  of  Sounds. 

1.  Organs  of  the  Chest 118 

Muscles,  Diaphragm,  Thorax,  Pleura,  etc. 

2.  Organs  of  the  Throat 119 

Larynx,  Cartilages, Vocal  Chords,  etc. 

3.  Organs  of  the  Mouth 122 

Eustachian  Tubes,  Nasal  Passages,  etc. 

IL  Voice 125 

Compass,  Volume,  Rate 125 

Qualities — Aspirate,  Pure,  Orotund,  etc 126 

III.  Elements  of  Language. 331 

Table  of  Vowel  Sounds 134 

Labials ; 135 

Linguals 136 

Palatals 137 

Pitch: 

Scale,  Key 139 

Melody 141 

Inflection ... 142 

Degrees  or  Intervals  of  Inflection 1 44 

Rules  for  Inflection 146 

Series 148 

Sentential  Inflections  or  Cadences 151 

Transition  or  Modulation 152 

Dynamics  or  Force  :      . 

Degrees 1 55 

Stress — Radical,  Final,  Median,  etc 1 58 

Accent — Primary,  Secondary 162 

Emphasis 162 

Time: 

Quantity 165 

Rests  or  Pauses .N 166 

Sentential  and  Emotional  Pauses ]  66 

Rhythmical  Pauses 168 

Grammatical  Pauses,  or  Punctuation , 169 


CONTENTS.  1*X 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  LITTLE  FOLKS.  Page 

Johnny's  First  Snow-storm 1 74 

The  Snow  Man ... . 175 

Jingle,  jingle ! 1 75 

Learning  to  fly 1 76 

Mind  your  Steps 1 76 

Hang  up  the  Baby's  Stocking 1 77 

Fretting  Jennie . 1 78 

Old  Hero 179 

The  First  Snow. . 180 

The  Mother-bird 1 80 

What  the  Flowers  wished 181 

Who  killed  Tom  Roper  ? 1 82 

Playing  School 1 83 

Little  Boy's  Pocket.   185 

Aunt  Mary's  Bullfinch 186 

Little  Mary's  Bouquet 187 

Choice  of  Trades 189 

Mysteries 192 

Wa  t  er . . 192 

Tommy's  Week 1 9.3 

Heedlessness. 214 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS. 

Columbia's. Union  Party.. ..... . 215 

The  Tea-kettle's  Party 22 1 

The  White  Giant 223 

In  School-days J.  G.  Whittier. ...  228 

New  Gowns . . 229 

Lecture  on  Heat Louise  E.  Chollet.  234 

Birds  and  their  Ways ■. 240 

Handy  Andy . . . Samuel  Lover 243 

School 249 

Second  Lecture  on  Heat Louise  E.  Chollet.  250 

Life B.F.  Taylor 254 

The  Guard  on  the  Rhine 256 

A  Singing  Lesson Jean  Ingelow 257 

The  Soldier's  Reprieve 258 

The  Smack  in  School J.  W.  Palmer. ...   263 

The  Bridal  Wine-cup 264 

The  Christmas  Tree 267 

Barbara  Frietchie J.G.  Whittier.. .  268 

Death  of  Little  Nell Charles  Dickens..  269 

1* 


X  CONTENTS. 

Katie  Lee  and  Willie  Gray 271 

Sheridan's  Ride T.B.  Read. 273 

The  Bottle  Imp Julia  M.  Thayer..  275 

Rules  for  Life.. . . 282 

German  Quotations  and  Proverbs 282 

MISCELLANEOUS  SELECTIONS. 
POETRY. 

Full  of  Snow Rev.  Joseph  Cook 283 

Labor Mrs.  Frances  S.  Osgood. 284 

Gethsemane Mrs.  E.  Clementine  Howarth  285 

A  Ballad  of  Sir  John  Franklin George  II.  Boker 280 

The  King  of  Denmark's  Ride Mrs.  Caroline  Norton 289 

Over  the  River. Miss  Priest 290 

Young  Lochinvar Sir  Walter  Scott 292 

The  Inquiry. Charles  Mackay. 293 

Wounded.. J.W. Watson 294 

We  Meet  and  we  Part 296 

Baby  Bunn. Josie  II. 296 

Drifting T.B.  Read 298 

To  a  Mouse Robert  Burns 300 

The  Miser's  Death Osborne 30L 

Little  Bennie. 303 

Ivry. T.B.  Macaulay 305 

Auction  extraordinary Lucretia  Davidson 3(  6 

The  Gain  of  Loss Horatius  Bonar 307 

The  Fireman R.T. Conrad. 3C9 

The  Picket-guard 310 

Jesus'  Seat Miss  F.  Eastwood. 311 

Abou  Ben  Adhem.. Leigh  Hunt 313 

Dora A  Ifred  Tennyson 313 

The  Bugle  Song Alfred  Tennyson 317 

Little  Gretchen , From  the  German 317 

There's  but  one  Pair  of  Stockings  to  mend  to-night 319 

The  Starless  Crown American  Tract  Society. . . .  321 

Only  waiting.. 322 

I'm  mustered  out 323 

Where  does  the  Water  Spring  ? 324 

High  Tide  on  the  Coast  of  Lincolnshire. .  .Jean  Ingelow 325 

The  everlasting  Memorial Horatius  Bonar 329 

The  World  would  be  the  better  for  it M.  H.  Cobb 330 

Thank  God  there's  still  a  Vanguard Mrs.  II.  E.  G.  Arey 331 

Creeds  of  the  Bells G.  W.  Bungay . .  332 

Building  of  the  Ship H.W.  Longfellow 333 

Evening  at  the  Farm. J.T.  Trowbridge 335 


CONTENTS.  xi 

PftRfl 

The  News  of  a  Day Mrs.  S.  T.  Bolton 336 

Borroboola  Gha 338 

The  Christian  Mariner Mrs.  Southey 340 

No  Sect  in  Heaven Mrs.  Cleveland 341 

John  Burns  of  Gettysburg. Bret  Harte 343 

Annie  and  Willie's  Prayer Mrs.  S.  P.  Snow 34G 

The  Soul-dirge A.  Cleveland  Coxe 349 

The  Triad A.  B.  Street 350 

The  Bobolink G.H.  Barnes 352 

The  Ride  from  Ghent  to  Aix Robert  Browning 354 

The  Passions William  Collins 355 

The  Child  and  the  Sunshine 358 

PROSE. 

Toleration Jeremy  Taylor 359 

From  the  Dodge  Club  in  Italy Tames  De  Mille 359 

Sam  Weller's  Valentine Charles  Dickens 36 1 

Putting  up  Stoves 371 

The  Power  of  Habit J.B.  Gough. . 373 

Chrysostom's  Eloquence 374 

The  Twenty-fourth  Psalm 375 

Dante  and  Milton Macaulay 375 

Gabriel  Grub Charles  Dickens 376 

Patrick  O'Rourke  and  the  Frogs G.W.  Bungay 386 

A  Camp- meeting  in  Texas 388 

An  Irish  Letter 391 

Scene  from  "  Richard  III." Shakspeare 392 

Scene  from  "  The  Siege  of  Valencia" Mrs.  Hemans 393 

Scene  from  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice". . .  Shakspeare 397 

Scene  from  "  The  Rivals" Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan.  401 

Quarrel  Scene  between  Brutus  and  Cassius.  Shakspeare 404 

From  "  School  for  Scandal" Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan.  407 

Courtship  under  Difficulties 413 


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ORTHOPHONY. 


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MANUAL   OF   HEADING. 


TABLE  NO.  4.    VOWEL  COMBINATIONS.*    DIPHTHONGS,t  ETC. 


Radical.    Vanish. 


Examples. 


No. 

Signs. 

9. 

va 

10. 

ya 

11. 

ye 

12. 

Vi 

13. 

Vi 

14. 

yo 

15. 

ay 

16. 

V°f 

Radical.    Vanish. 


Examples. 


a  (ay) 

I 


oi(oy) 
6y 

ya 


(Ace.) 


-I    as  in  ale,  pay. 
'     ice. 
old. 
do. 
lute, 
oil,  toy. 
our. 


y 

(Ace.) 


V — 
y — 

— a 
— a 

v — 

V — 

— e 

— 1_ 

* 

assuage'. 


(Ace.) 

s--a-i 


(Ace.) 

a    as  in  suav'ity. 
1    gua'no. 
ques'tion. 
suite, 
lan'guid. 
qnoie. 
ay! 


buoy.i 


DISSYLLABIC  VOWEL  COMBINATIONS. 


No.    Signs.  Radical.  Vanish. 


Examples. 


No.    Signs.    Radical.    Vanish.  Examples. 


(Acc.) 


ayey 
aou 

ae 
aye 
awi 

ea 

ea 

eJ 

eo 

ett 


eyo 
IG 

16 
o'a 
56 

01 

ewe" 
ya 
out 

ewe 
ua 
156 

ewt 

ewe" 


as  in  Ba'al. 

M  a'orist. 

M  clay'ey. 

11  da'Qurete. 

"  aeronaut. 

"  aye. 

"  saw'ing. 

"  re'al. 

"  ide'a. 

M  de'ity. 

"  Le'on. 

"  de'fim. 

"  fl'at. 

"  Messi-ah. 

"  pi'ety. 

"  fly'ing. 

"  ey'6t. 

"  I'-owa. 

"  Ori'dn. 

41  No'ah. 

"  po'6t 

"  stS'Tc. 

w  sew'er. 

"  try'ant. 

11  Lou'is. 

"  sew'er. 

M  du'&l. 

M  du'el. 

"  dew'jf. 

M  sew'Sr. 


Qui 
ua 
ii6 
iiT 
oia 


Qa 


n  aor'ta. 
Ao'nian. 
Borea'lis. 
real'Ity. 
fia'cre. 
Co'lian. 
eSric. 
Io'na. 
expia'tion. 
galliam'bic. 
patrjarch'al. 
furio'so. 
Joan'na. 
Gen'oa. 
Genoese'. 
Lguise! 
fluctuation. 
FliieTen. 
frui'tion. 
gyala'cum. 
impetuosity, 
duum'vir. 

cre'asote. 

cre'51e. 

Ohi'6. 

o'ases. 

flu'ate. 

da'o. 

ca'Tc  (ka'ek). 

rou'et. 


*  A  union  or  coalition  of  vowel  or  tonic  sounds,  uttered  in  one  syllable,  or  by  a 
single  impulse  of  voice. 

t  A  union  of  two  sounds  in  one  syllable,  closely  blended,  seven  of  which  are 
accented  on  the  radical. 

t  A  triphthong  is  a  union  of  three  vowel  sounds  in  one  syllable.  Uoy  is  a  triph- 
thong accented  on  the  middle  sound. 


VRTHOPHONY. 


TABLE  NO.  5.    VOWEL  DIGRAPHS.11 


No. 

Sign. 

Equivalents  and  Examples. 

1. 

aa 

a,  a,  as  in  l'saac,  baa. 

2. 

ae 

a,  a,  e,  e,  as  in  Bael'-nre,  Haer'lem,  pae'an,  faeYy. 

3. 

ai 

a,  a,  e, 1,  1,  as  in  pail,  plaid,  said,  aisle,  cur'tain. 

4. 

ao 

a,  a,  as  in  gaol,  extraordinary. 

5. 

au 

a,  a,  3,  o,  as  in  gauge,  aunt,  haul,  haut'-boy  (ho-boy). 

6. 

aw 

a,  as  in  bawl. 

7. 

awe 

a,  as  in  awe. 

8. 

ay 

a,  e,  I,  as  in  pay,  says,  Friday. 

9. 

ea 

a,  a,  e,  6, 1,  u,  as  in  break,  heart,  reap,  head,  guin'ea,  earth. 

10. 

eau 

o,  u,  as  in  beau,  beau'ty. 

11. 

ee 

e,  6, 1,  as  in  seen,  e'er,  been. 

12. 

ei 

a,  e,  S, 1, 1,  as  in  eight,  ceil,  heifer,  height,  for'felt. 

13. 

eo 

a,  e,  e,  o,  u,  fi,  as  in  George,  peo'ple,  leop'ard,  yeo'man,  feod,  surge6n. 

14. 

en 

u,  (y)u,  q,  as  in  feud,  Eu'nice,  feu-de-joie'  (zhwa). 

15. 

eui 

V,  as  in  feuill-e-marte. 

16. 

ew 

o,  u,  o,  as  in  sew,  few,  sewer. 

17. 

ewe 

u,  as  in  ewes. 

18. 

ey 

a,  e,  I,  I,  e,  as  in  bey,  key,  vallejf,  ey'ing,  fiy'rjf.t 

19. 

eye 

T,  as  in  eye'let. 

20. 

ia 

I,  as  in  car'riage.t 

21. 

ie 

e,  e,  I,  I,  as  in  chief,  friend,  die,  sieve. 

22. 

io 

u,  as  in  re'gifln. 

23. 

ieu 

u,  as  in  lieu. 

24. 

iew 

u,  as  in  view. 

25. 

oa 

a,  o,  as  in  broad,  boat. 

26. 

oe 

e,  6,  5,  o,  «,  as  in  Phoebe,  assafoe'tida,  foe,  shoe,  d6es. 

27. 

oeu 

o,  as  in  mangeu'vre. 

28. 

oi 

T,  u,  i,  as  in  boil,  avoirdupois,  chamois. 

29. 

oo 

o,  o,  ti,  u,  as  in  floor,  mgon,  fl6od,  foot. 

30. 

ou 

a,  o,  o,  g,  «,  u,  as  in  bought,  court,  hSugh,  grQup,  cofip'le,  could. 

31. 

ow 

5,  5,  as  in  grow,  knowledge. 

32. 

owe 

o,  as  in  Stowe. 

33. 

ua 

a,  a,  5,  as  in  guSr'anty,  guard,  guar'ish. 

34. 

uay 

e,  as  in  quay  (ke). 

35. 

ue 

e,  9,  u,  fi,  as  in  guest,  true,  due,  guerdon. 

36. 

ui 

e,  I,  i,  9,  u,  as  in  inosqui'to,  guide,  build,  fruit,  jQice. 

37. 

no 

ti,  as  in  liq'ttor. 

38. 

uy 

I,  as  in  buf. 

39. 

ye 

i,  as  in  rye. 

*  A  digraph  is  a  union  of  signs  or  letters,  but  not  of  sounds. 

t  Ey,  in  ey-ry,  is,  according  to  Worcester,  e,  a,  T,  or  6,  properly  a. 

t  See  (equivalents)  Table  2,  Vowel  Elements. 

Note.— Practice  all  the  sounds  and  examples  successively.  Example :  "  Double  a 
is  pronounced  a,  as  in  Isaac ;  a  as  in  baa ;  a-e  is  pronounced  fi,  as  in  Bael-flre ;  a  aa 
in  Haerlem ;  e  as  in  pae'an,  and  S  as  in  faer'y,"  etc 


v 


^ 


MANUAL  OF  READING. 


TABLE  NO.  6.    UNITS  OF 

SPE 

ECH.* 

No. 

Long  Tonics. 

No. 

Short  Tonics, 

i  i. 

5  as  in  eve 

oral-lingual. 

7. 

1  as  in  it. 

2. 

a      "     ale 

a          u 

8. 

S     "     ell. 

3. 

a      "     arm 

it           U 

9. 

S      "     at. 

4. 

a     "     all 

oral-labial. 

10. 

5      "     not. 

5. 

o      "     old 

u          u 

11. 

u     «     up. 

6. 

p      "     do 

u          a 

12. 

u      "     full. 

Single  Sign  Diphthongs. t 

Double  Sign  Diphthongs, 

1. 

r  (lie)  as  in  ice  (1) 

oral-lingual. 

4. 

61,  ojf,  as  in  oil,  boy  (2) 

2. 

u  (eo)      "     lute. 

5. 

6u      ^Nj^  our. 

3. 

j  (dzh)     "     joy. 

6. 

7. 

ch(tsh)  "    church, 
wh  (hw)  "    when. 

Snbtonics. 

Atonies, 

b          as  in  bulb 

labial. 

1. 

p    as  in  pipe. 

2. 

d             "      did 

lingual. 

2. 

t         "    tent. 

3. 

g             "      go,  gig 

palatal. 

3. 

k        "    kick. 

4. 

v             M      valve 

labial. 

4. 

f        "    fife. 

5. 

z              "      zinc 

lingual. 

6. 

s         u    sense. 

6. 

z,  zh        "      azure 

palatal. 

6. 

c,  sh  "    ocean,  shall. 

7. 

th            "      this 

lingual. 

7. 

th       "    thin,  kith. 

8. 

y             "     yet 

palatal. 

8. 

h        "    home  (3). 

9. 

w             "      wing 

labial. 

...  • 

10. 

1               "      lull 

lingual. 

11. 

m            "      man 

labial. 

12. 

n              u      noon 

lingual. 

13. 

n,  ng       u      ink,  song 

palatal. 

14. 

r              "      war 

lingual. 

*  There  are  twelve  tonic  elements  or  units  of  speech— six  long  and  six  short,  four- 
teen subtonics,  and  eight  atonies.  All  other  sounds  whatsoever  are  more  or  less 
closely  united  combinations  of  these  sounds  or  elements. 

t  There  are  seven  close  diphthongs,  three  having  single  signs,  and  four  more 
worthy  of  single  signs.    (See  Table  No.  4,  Vowel  Combinations.) 

(1)  According  to  Walker  and  Webster,  d^  Russel  and  Murdoch,  dl,  and  Smart  and 
Vandenhoff,  ue.    The  latter  seems  decidedly  the  best. 

(2)  According  to  Worcester  and  Webster,  0lt  and  Murdoch  and  Russel,  81. 

\B)  The  sound  of  h  can  be  classed  as  a  lingual,  labial,  or  palatal,  since  it  is  simply 
an  emission  of  breath. 

Note.— Practice  this  table  horizontally,  as  follows:  "e,  \  a,  6,  etc.,"  by  sound, 
and  not  by  name;  practice  perpendicularly  'by  sound,  as  "e,  a,  a,  %  o,  q,  etc.;" 
practice  by  pronouncing  the  words,  naming,  the  eigus,  and  producing  the  sounds,  as 
"eve,  e;  ale,  a,"  etc. 


ORTHOPHONY. 


TABLE  NO.  7.    CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  SUBTONICS  AND  ATONICS. 
BY  THEIR  ORGANIC  FORMATION— 
J  1.  Labials :  ra-an,  6-abe,#-ipe,  v-ine,/-ine,  w-ine. 

2.  Lmguals :  n-oon,  J-id,  £-ent,  th-i$,  th-in,  s-in,  3-inc,  r-ill,  £ulL 

3.  Palatals :  ri-ng,  £-o,  &-ing,  sA-all,  a-z-ure,  A-ome,  y-et. 

BY  THEIR  EMISSION  AND  FORCE— 

1.  (Sonant)  sub  tonics,  b,  d,  g. 


Abrupts(l)  -I  1#  vSonant)  subtonics,  b,  < 
^    ^  '  (  2.  (Surd)  atonies,  p,  t,  k. 


( Liquids  (3),  r,l. 
.         f  1.  (Sonant)  subtonics  }  Nasals  (4),  m,  n,  ng. 
n.  Contmu-   I  (  Semi.VoWels  (5),  w,  y. 

^^  1 2.  (Surd)  atonies         i  Aspirate  (6)  h 

(  Semi-vowel  (5),  wn. 

-■■  — w. ■ 

(1)  Named  "  abrupts"  because  of  their  explosive  emission. 

(2)  Named  "continuants"  because  they  can  be  prolonged. 

(3)  Called  "liquids"  because  they  readily  and  smoothly  unite  with  other 
consonants. 

(4)  Called  "  nasals"  because  the  sound  is  emitted  through  the  nose. 

(5)  Called  "semi-vowels"  because  they  possess  nearly  perfect  vocality 
like  the  vowels. 

(6)  Called  "aspirate"  because  it  is  a  breath-found. 

A2 


%I 


10 


MANUAL   OF   HEADING. 


TABLE  NO.  8. 

CONSONANT  COMBINATIONS. 

bd 

rob'd. 

id 

goug'd. 

lsk 

Tobolsk. 

bdst 

prob'dst. 

kl 

uncle. 

1st 

call'st. 

bl 

bland. 

kid 

trickl'd. 

lsh 

walsh. 

bid 

humbl'd. 

kldst 

truckl'dst. 

It 

melt. 

bldst 

troubl'dst. 

klst 

chuckl'st. 

1th 

health. 

blst 

troubl'st. 

klz 

wrinkles. 

lths 

stealths. 

biz 

crumbles. 

kn 

blacken. 

Its 

colts. 

br 

brand. 

knd 

reck'n'd. 

ltst 

wilt'st. 

bz 

ribs. 

knst 

black'n'st. 

lv 

delve. 

ch 

church. 

knz 

reckons. 

lvd 

shelved. 

cht 

fetch'd. 

ks 

checks. 

lvdst 

delv'dst 

dj 

edge. 

kt 

act. 

lvz 

elves. 

djd 

hedg'd. 

kts 

facts. 

lz 

halls. 

dl 

bridle. 

ktst 

conduct'st. 

md 

doomed. 

did 

riddl'd. 

kr 

crank. 

mdst 

roam'dst. 

dlst 

handl'st. 

lb 

bulb. 

mf 

triumph. 

dlz 

bundles. 

lbd 

bulb'd. 

mp 

hemp. 

dn 

hard'n. 

lbs 

bulbs. 

mps 

mumps. 

dr 

drove. 

lch 

filch. 

mpst 

pump'st. 

dth 

width. 

lcht 

filch'd. 

mpt 

tempt. 

dths 

breadths. 

Id 

hold. 

mpts 

attempts. 

dz 

odds. 

ldst 

fold'st. 

mst 

entomb'st. 

ft 

flame. 

ldz 

holds 

mz 

tombs. 

fid 

rifl'd. 

If 

self. 

nch 

bunch. 

fist 

sthTst. 

lfs 

gulfs. 

ncht 

pinch'd. 

flz 

rifles. 

1ft 

engulf  d. 

nd 

and. 

fr 

from. 

lfth 

twelfth. 

ndst 

end'st. 

fs 

quaffs,  laughs. 

lfths 

twelfths. 

ndz 

ends. 

fst 

quaff'st,  laugh'st. 

« 

bulge. 

ng 

sung. 

ft 

raft. 

yd 

bilg'd. 

ngd 

bang'd. 

fth 

fifth. 

Ik 

elk. 

ngdst 

long'dst. 

fts 

wafts. 

Iks 

silks. 

ngk 

ink. 

ftst 

grafVst. 

lkt 

milk'd. 

ngks 

banks. 

gd 

begg'd. 

lkts 

mulcts. 

ngkst 

think'st. 

gdst 

bragg'dst. 

lm 

elm. 

ngkt 

thank'd. 

gl 

glide. 

lmd 

whelm'd. 

ngth 

length. 

gld 

struggl'd. 

lmz 

helms. 

ngz 

songs. 

gldst 

haggl'dst. 

In 

fall'n. 

nJ 

range. 

gist 

strangl'st. 

lp 

help. 

njd 

ranged. 

glz 

mingles. 

lpt 

gulp'd. 

nk 

sink. 

gr 

grove. 

lps 

scalps. 

nks 

ranks. 

gst 

begg'st. 

lpst 

help'st. 

nkst 

thank'st.          | 

gz 

figs. 

Is 

false. 

ns 

dense. 

*  This  table  should  be  practiced  until  every  combination  can  be  distinctly  pro- 
nounced or  articulated  by  itself,  independent  of  words.  Ex.  1.  Pronounce  the  word, 
and  then  the  combination,  as  rob'd,  bd ;  prob'dst,  bdst,  etc.  Ex.  2.  Spell  the  com- 
bination, and  then  pronounce  it,  as  b,  d,  bd ;  b,  d,  s,  t,  bdst.  Ex.  3.  Analyze  tho 
words,  as  bulb,  ulb,  lb,  b ;  troubl'dst,  roubl'dst,  oubl'dst,  bl'dst,  l'dst,  *dst,  st,  t,  etc. 


ORTHOPHONY. 


11 


TABLE  NO. 

9.    CONSONANT  COMBINATIONS. 

nst 

canst,  winc'd. 

rlz 

hurls. 

spt 

clasped. 

nt 

sent. 

rm 

arm. 

st 

start. 

nth 

tenth. 

rmd 

arm'd. 

str 

strike. 

nths 

tenths. 

rmdsi 

;  harm'dst. 

sts 

rests. 

nts 

rents. 

rmst 

armst. 

sw 

swing. 

ntst 

went'st. 

rmz 

charms. 

th 

thine. 

nz 

runs. 

rn 

urn. 

thd 

breath'd. 

nzd 

bronz'd. 

rnd 

turn'd. 

thdst 

breath'dst. 

Pi 

plume. 

rndst 

earn'dst. 

thm 

rhythm. 

pld 

rippl'd. 

rnst 

learn  'st. 

thr 

three. 

plst 

rippl'st. 

rnt 

burnt. 

ths 

Ruth's. 

plz 

apples. 

rnz 

urns. 

thst 

breath'st. 

pr 

prince. 

rp 

carp. 

tht 

scath'd. 

ps 

sips. 

rps 

harps. 

thw 

thwack. 

pst 

rapp'st. 

rpst 

usurp'st. 

thz 

writhes,  paths. 

pt 

ripp'd,  rapt. 

rpt 

warp'd. 

tl 

title. 

pts 

Copts. 

rptst 

usurp'dst. 

tld 

settl'd. 

ptst 

shap'dst. 

rs 

verse. 

tldst 

settl'dst. 

rb 

herb. 

rsh 

harsh. 

tlst 

settl'st. 

rch 

search. 

rst 

first. 

tlz 

nettles. 

rcht 

church'd. 

rsts 

bursts. 

tr 

trunk. 

rchtst 

lurch'd'st. 

rt 

dart. 

ts 

fits. 

rchdst 

perch'dst. 

rth 

earth. 

tst 

waftst. 

rbd 

orb'd. 

rtht 

earth'd. 

tw 

twirl. 

rbdst 

barb'dst. 

rths 

births. 

vd 

curv'd. 

rbz 

orbs 

rts 

marts. 

vdst 

liv'dst. 

rd 

hard. 

rtst 

dart'st. 

vl 

driv'l. 

rdst 

heard'st. 

rv 

curve. 

vld 

grovTd. 

rdz 

words. 

rvd 

nerv'd. 

vlclst 

grov'l'dst. 

rf 

turf. 

rvdst 

curv'dst. 

vlst 

drivTst. 

rfs 

turfs. 

rvst 

swerv'st. 

vn 

driv'n. 

rft 

scarf'd. 

rvz 

nerves. 

vst 

liv'st. 

rg 

burg. 

rz 

furs. 

vz 

lives. 

rgst 

urg'st. 

rzd 

furz'd. 

wh 

when. 

rgz 

burgs. 

sh 

hush. 

zd 

mus'd. 

*j 

dirge. 

sht 

hush'd. 

zl 

dazzle. 

rjd 

urg'd. 

sk 

skip,  scan. 

zld 

muzzPd. 

ijdst 

urg'dst. 

sks 

basks. 

zldst 

dazzl'dst. 

rk 

ark. 

skst 

ask'st. 

zlst 

dazzl'st. 

rks 

arks. 

skt 

risk'd. 

zlz 

muzzles. 

rkst 

work'st. 

si 

slow. 

zm 

spasm 

rkt 

dirk'd. 

sld 

nestl'd. 

zmz 

chasms. 

rktst 

embark'dst. 

slz 

wrestles. 

zn 

ris'n. 

rl 

girl. 

sm 

smile. 

znd 

reas'n'd. 

rid 

world. 

sn 

snag. 

znz 

prisons. 

rldst 

hurl'dst. 

sp 

sport. 

zndst 

impris'n'dst. 

rlst 

i 

whirl'st. 

sps 

lisps. 

12 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


TABLE  NO.  10.    VOCAL  GYMNASTICS.    FORCE  AND  PITCH. 

Fig.  1.  Variations  in  Force. 

£••• «6®$ 

Fig.  2. 


•      • 


•     • 


Fig.  3.    Variations  in  Pitch  and  Force. 

•  •• 


Fig.  5. 


Fig.  6. 


..•' 


'•.. 


Exercises  in  Smooth  Tone,  which  end  suddenly,  or  die  out. 

.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone  slowly  from  a  heavy  voice  to  a  whisper,  or  "  diminuendo"  (%  °*  Fig*  *)• 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone  reversely,  or  "  crescendo" — from  light  to  heavy  (last  %  of  Fig.  1). 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone  "  diminuendo"  and  **  crescendo"  (through  the  entire  1st  Fig.). 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone  "  crescendo"  and  "diminuendo,"  or  "  swell"  (through  the  2d  Fig.). 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone,  decreasing  in  force  while  ascending  the  scale  (%  of  Fig.  3). 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone,  increasing  in  force  while  descending  the  scale  (last  %  °f  Fig.  3). 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone,  continuing  from  the  decrease  to  the  increase  downward  (Fig.  3  entire). 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone,  increasing  in  force  while  ascending  the  scale  (M  of  Fig.  4). 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone,  decreasing  in  force  while  descending  the  scale  (Fig.  4,  last  half). 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone,  continuing  from  the  increase  to  the  decrease  (Fig.  4  entire), 
and  12.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone,  making  a  swell  midway  in  ascent  and  descent  (Fig.  5  entire^ 
.  Fill  the  lungs  and  intone  slowly,  decreasing  in  force  to  the  middle,  and  increasing  in  force  to  tho  last 

while  ascending  the  scale  (>£  of  Fig.  6). 
.  Decrease  in  force  to  the  middle,  and  increase  to  the  last  in  descending  the  scale  Oast  %  of  Fig.  6). 
.  Change  hy  taking  each  of  the  pure  vowel  sounds  and  consonant  continuants,  and  by  assuming  torn*  of  th* 

qualities  of  voice. 
.  Apply  sentences  to  tb«  figures.    Example : 

"  Then  fear  not,  doubt  not,  which  thou  wilt ; 
We'll  try  this  quarrel  hilt  to  hilt." 


ORTHOPHONY. 


J* 


TABLE  NO.  11.    VOCAL  GYMNASTICS.    STRESS. 
Fig.  1.    Radical  Stress. 


>    > 


Fig.  2.    Final  Stress. 


<    < 


Fig.  3.    Median  Stress. 


O    O    ♦ 


Fig.  4.    Compound  Stress. 


XXX 


Fig.  5.    Intermittent  Stress. 


ooooa 


)ooooa      xxxxxx     m 


This  table  is  devoted  exclusively  to  stress. 

To  practice  Fig.  1.  Begin  heavily,  and  end  lightly  upon  one  note.  A  smooth 
diminuendo. 

Fig.  2.  Begin  in  a  whisper  and  end  heavily.    A  smooth  crescendo. 

Fig.  3.  Begin  and  end  lightly,  with  a  full,  heavy  sound  in  the  middle  of  the  note. 
A  smooth  swell. 

Fig.  4.  Begin  and  end  heavily,  diminishing  to  a  whisper  in  the  middle  of  the 
note. 

Fig.  5.  Produce  a  note  in  a  tremulous  tone,  such  as  represents  sorrow,  age,  etc 

No.  6.  Thorough  or  Staccato  Stress  is  not  represented,  but  should  be  practiced  by 
xepeating  each  sound  abruptly  four  times. 

Take  successive  vowel  sounds  for  this  practice,  and  be  careful  not  to  vary  Vw 
pitch. 


14 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


TABLE  NO.  12.    VOCAL  GYMNASTICS.    PITCH,  OR  INFLECTION. 
NOTES  REPRESENTED  BY  LINES. 


A  Half  Tone.  A  Wholt  Tone. 


Fig.  1. 

A  Third. 


A  Fifth. 


^N  S\  /\ 

si,  do,  do,  si.       do,  ra,  ra,  do.       do,  mi,  mi,  do.      do,  sol,  sol,  do.      do,  do,  do,  da 


Fig.  2. 


i    si,  do,  si.  do,  ra,  do.  do,  mi,  do.  do,  sol,  do.  do,  do,  do. 

Fig.  3. 


do,  si,  do.  ra,  do,  ra.  mi,  do,  mi.  sol,  do,  sol.  do,  do,  do. 

Fig.  4. 


no  r\j 


si.  do,  si,  do.        do,  ra,  do,  ra.       do,  mi,  do,  mi.     do,  sol,  do,  sol.      do,  do,  do,  do. 

Fig.  5. 

— >  ^  <s>  on  un 

do,  6i,  do,  si.        ra,  do,  ra,  do.       mi,  do,  mi,  do.       sol,  do,  sol,  do.     do,  do,  do,  do. 


This  table  is  devoted  exclusively  to  pitch,  and  is  designed  to  educate  the  ear  to 
distinguish  kinds  and  degrees  of  inflection. 

To  practice  Fig.  1.  First  produce  the  given  notes  of  the  scale  with  syllables, 
si,  do,  do,  si,  etc.  When  this  can  be  done,  substitute  a  vowel  sound  for  the  syl- 
lables, and  produce  a  smooth,  even  rise  and  fall  of  the  voice,  to  correspond  in 
degree  with  the  notes  or  characters  in  the  figure.  Do  not  increase  nor  decrease  in 
volume,  and  avoid  dragging  the  sound  from  one  character  to  another. 

Practice  the  remaining  figures  in  the  same  way,  observing  to  continue  the  sound 
to  the  end  of  each  character  in  the  figures,  and  no  farther.  In  Fig.  1,  two  notes  are 
united  in  each  character ;  in  Figs.  2  and  3,  three  notes ;  in  Figs.  4  and  5,  four  notes 
are  smoothly  connected. 


ORTHOPHONY.  15 

TABLE  NO.  13.    VOCAL  GYMNASTICS.    PITCH  AND  FORCE  COMBINED. 

Fi£.l. 


^>  ^V  /\ 

n,  do,  do,  si.        do,  ra.ra,  do.       do,  mi,  mi,  do.     do,  so?,  so?,  do.       do,  do,  do,  do. 


Fig.  2. 


«t,do,do,s».       do,  ba,  ea,  do.        do,  mi,  mi,  do.      do,  sol,  sol,  do.      do,  do,  do,  do. 

Fig.  3. 


•i,  do,  do,  si.       do,  ha,  ra,  do.       do,  mi,  mi,  do.      do,  sol,  so?,  do.       do,  do,  do,  do. 

Fig.  4. 


•v  </v 


si,  do,  do,  «».        do,  ra,  ba,  do.       do,  wit,  mi,  do.       do,  sol,  sol,  do.      do,  do,  do,  do. 


Fig.  5. 


si,  do,  do,  si.       do,  ra,  ra,  do.        do,  mi,  mi,  do.      do,  sol,  sol,  do.      do,  do,  do,  do. 


This  table  combines  stress  and  inflection  for  practice. 

To  practice  Fig.  1.  Sound  the  syllables,  accenting  the  first  and  last  in  each  gronp, 
as  indicated  by  the  capitals  and  small  letters.  When  this  can  be  readily  done,  use 
a  single  vowel  sound  instead  of  the  syllables. 

Practice  the  remaining  figures  in  the  same  manner,  applying  various  vowel  sounds 
to  keep  up  an  interest  in  the  exercise. 

Fig.  5  can  be  rendered  more  easily  by  using  a  single  sound  at  the  outset. 


16 


MANUAL  OF   BEADING. 


TABLE  NO.  14.    ACCENT. 

To  learn  accent,  practice  the  following  Table  of  Accented 
and  Unaccented  Sounds.  The  table  may  be  written  on  the 
blackboard,  and  the  class  exercised  in  concert,  the  leader 
pointing  to  the  groups  of  sound  in  the  order  and  time  re- 
quired. 


DISSYLLABLES. 


tV 

a 

B 

a' 

a' 

K 

g 

|' 

&' 

a 

a 

r 

a' 

a 

a 

a' 

B' 

5 

e 

& 

V 

B 

8 

S' 

r 

r 

f 

I' 

t 

l 

l 

« 

o' 

o 

o 

o' 

5' 

5 

6 

5' 

o' 

o 

o 

o' 

u' 

ti 

u 

u' 

u" 

ii 

ii 

W 

u' 

u 

u 

U' 

TRISYLLABLES. 


r 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

S' 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

a7 

&' 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

»' 

& 

6 

5 

6 

e' 

6 

5 

5 

6' 

5/ 

S 

6 

6 

8' 

B 

8 

6 

6' 

r 

T 

r 

r 

r 

r 

r 

r 

I' 

r 

1 

1 

\ 

r 

1 

1 

I 

r 

# 

5 

o 

6 

o' 

0 

o 

o 

o' 

6' 

5 

5 

5 

5' 

5 

o 

o 

5' 

o' 

0 

o 

o 

o' 

o 

o 

o 

o' 

CL' 

u 

ti 

u 

a' 

tl 

u 

u 

u' 

lY 

tt 

u 

u 

u' 

ii 

u 

ii 

ii' 

n' 

u 

u 

u 

u' 

u 

u 

u 

u' 

POLYSYLLABLES. 


a' 

a 

a 

a 

a 

r 

a 

a 

a 

a 

ar 

a 

a 

a 

a  a' 

a/ 

a 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

a 

ft' 

a 

a 

a 

a  a' 

S' 

a 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

s 

a 

a 

a 

ii' 

a 

a 

a 

a    a' 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

a 

a' 

a 

a 

a 

a  a/ 

# 

e 

6 

5 

6 

r 

e 

e 

e 

5 

B' 

<3 

8 

e 

e  e' 

r 

5 

8 

8 

6 

fr 

6 

6 

8 

6 

8' 

8 

S 

6 

8    8' 

r 

i 

i 

r 

r 

T' 

r 

r 

r 

r 

i/ 

r 

T 

I 

r  r 

r 

1 

X 

l 

l 

f 

l 

l 

i 

i 

Jf 

l 

1 

1 

l  r 

D' 

o 

o 

5 

o 

6' 

0 

o 

o 

5 

5' 

o 

o 

o 

o    5' 

5' 

5 

5 

5 

5 

o' 

6 

6 

5 

5 

6' 

5 

5 

0 

5   5' 

Q' 

o 

o 

o 

o 

2' 

o 

o 

o 

0 

S' 

o 

p 

0 

O     Q' 

V 

u 

u 

ti 

ti 

ii' 

u 

u 

ti 

u 

Tr 

u 

u 

ti 

ti  ti' 

u' 

u 

u 

ii 

ii 

ft' 

ii 

u 

ii 

ii 

u' 

ii 

ii 

u 

ii  ii' 

u/ 

u 

u 

u 

u 

u' 

u 

u 

u 

u 

u' 

u 

u 

u 

u  u' 

MANUAL  OF  READING. 


PAET  I. 

ORTHOPHONY. 

Orthophony  is  systematic  voice-training. 

I.  HYGIENIC  SUGGESTIONS. 
To  attain  the  highest  voice  capacity  requires  health  and 
practice.     To  insure  or  perpetuate  health,  we  must  have — 
1st.  Plain  food,  regularly  taken. 
2d.  Comfortable  clothing,  warm,  light,  and  loose. 
3d.  Exercise  and  pure  air. 
4th.  Plenty  of  sleep. 

FOOD. 

The  most  wholesome  diet  for  pupils  in  voice-training,  am? 
ateur  and  professional  voice  artists,  excludes  all  greasy  food, 
soups,  pork  in  any  form,  nuts,  rich  food,  as  suet  or  plum 
puddings,  fruit-cake,  mince  pie,  pickles,  lobster,  hot  breads, 
candy,  and  all  other  food  that  causes  indigestion  and  fever- 
ishness,  together  with  all  stimulating  drinks,  including  strong 
tea  and  coffee. 

To  guard  against  the  imputation  of  having  excluded  ev- 
ery thing  palatable,  a  list  of  dishes,  both  pleasant  and  harm- 
less, is  added.  Fish,  fowl,  rare-boiled  or  poached  eggs,  tripe, 
rare -roasted  or  broiled  beef,  cold  breads,  toast,  crackers, 
wheat  grits,  oatmeal  mush  and  cakes,  plain  puddings  and 
pies,  fruit,  cold  water,  milk  or  weak  tea.  No  food  should  be 
taken  between  meals  or  late  at  night.  Persons  using  the 
voice  professionally  take  no  food  for  at  least  one  hour  be- 
fore using  the  voice,  and  oftener  two  or  three  hours  inter- 


18  ,!    ;        '     'MANUAL   OP   READING. 


vene  between  dinner  and  the  concert  or  lecture.  But  one 
exception  has  been  given  among  distinguished  singers,  and 
that  is  Adelaide  Patti,  who  is  said  to  dine  between  the  acts 
of  the  opera.  Parepa,  whose  voice  is  not  only  wonderful  for 
its  power,  but  for  its  clearness,  dines  four  hours  before  con- 
cert, taking  a  light  lunch,  if  needful,  just  before  singing,  but 
nothing  afterward,  and  avoids  all  voice-smoothers,  such  as 
lozenges,  lemon,  sugar,  etc.  To  avoid  a  sensation  of  hunger 
or  faintness,  a  little  toast  and  weak  tea,  or,  what  is  better, 
a  raw  egg,  may  be  taken  just  before  using  the  voice. 

CLOTHING. 

The  clothing  should  be  at  all  times  sufficiently  warm  for 
the  climate  and  season.  Light,  so  as  to  give  ease  and 
warmth  without  weight,  and  loose  in  those  much-abused 
parts  of  the  body,  viz.,  the  throat,  waist,  and  feet.  One 
thickness  of  flannel  should  cover  the  chest,  to  avoid  the 
chill  of  damp  cotton  or  linen  garments  after  exercise.  The 
weight  of  clothing  should  rest,  as  much  as  possible,  upon 
the  shoulders,  by  means  of  bands  or  suspenders,  and  the  feet 
should  be  kept  at  all  times  dry  and  warm. 

EXERCISE    AND   PURE   AIR. 

Fresh  air  should  be  plentiful  at  all  times  by  means  of  ven- 
tilators, windows,  and  doors;  and  this  should  be  not  only  in 
halls  and  churches,  but  in  all  business  places,  school-rooms, 
and  sleeping  apartments.  This  note  may  seem  unnecessary 
in  a  teacher's  manual;  but  so  little  thought  is  given  the 
subject  elsewhere,  we  would  have  the  children  thoroughly 
taught  the  necessity  as  wrell  as  comfort  of  pure  air.  When 
about  to  practice  calisthenics  or  gesture,  it  is  safe  to  have 
windows  and  doors  open;  but  when  warm  and  resting,  they 
should  be  closed,  and  all  drafts  avoided.  Upon  going  into 
cold  or  damp  air  after  using  the  voice,  as  in  reading,  lec- 
turing, or  singing,  the  lungs  and  mouth  should  be  carefully 
protected,  the  process  of  breathing  carried  on  through  the 
nostrils  or  a  thickness  of  flannel. 


ORTHOPHONY.  *  19 


SLEEP. 

Let  no  one  think  sleep  unworthy  of  consideration,  for  it 
is  a  cosmetic,  a  tonic,  and  an  indispensable  voice-agent.  No 
stimulants,  lotions,  or  cordials  can  give  that  vigor  to  the  vo- 
cal organs ;  no  cosmetics  can  give  that  freshness  of  feeling 
and  appearance  that  perfect  rest  and  sleep  give.  Children 
will  waken  when  fully  rested,  and  it  is  nothing  less  than 
cruelty  to  waken  and  force  them  to  rise.  They  should  be 
sent  to  bed  earlier,  that  they  may  have  the  needed  amount 
of  rest. 

Besides  health,  voice-culture  requires  continued  systemat- 
ic exercise  or  practice  in  respiration,  intonation,  and  calis- 
thenics, or  gesture.  These  exercises  bring  into  action  all  of 
the  muscles  of  the  chest  and  throat,  head  and  mouth.  Ex- 
ercises in  breathing,  by  noting  the  number  of  seconds  re- 
quired to  fill  the  lungs  by  slow  inhalation,  and  the  seconds 
required  to  empty  them  by  slow  exhalation,  together  with 
exercises  in  intoning,  noting  the  number  of  seconds  that  a 
full  smooth  tone  can  be  produced,  and  how  many  syllables 
can  be  uttered  without  a  fresh  supply  of  breath,  have  been 
found  very  beneficial  to  the  respiratory  and  vocal  organs. 
These  exercises  give  the  power  and  ability  to  produce  many 
words  "with  a  small  supply  of  breath  or  voice-material,  thus 
enabling  a  speaker  to  render  long  passages  of  composition 
smoothly  and  effectively  —  passages  that  would  lose  half 
their  force  by  an  interruption  for  breath.  The  general  or 
primary  position  for  exercises  in  breathing  and  intoning  is 
the  military  or  gymnasium  position  (see  page  24),  and  the 
special  position  No.  1,  page  25,  i.  e.,  the  hands  upon  the  sides, 
so  that  the  finger-tips  may  touch  in  the  back,  thumbs  point 
front,  elbows  back,  and  chin  curbed. 

II.  GENERAL  EXERCISES. 
RESPIRATION. 

1.  Inspiring.  The  lungs  must  first  be  emptied  in  order 
to  ascertain  how  long  it  takes  to  fill  them;  hence,  begin 
this  exercise  by  expelling  the  air  from  the  lungs,  making  a 
continuous  hissing  sound ;  when  the  sound  ceases  the  air  in 


20  MANUAL   OF  BEADING. 

the  lungs  is  sufficiently  exhausted.  Now  inspire  very  slow- 
ly, making  a  slight  noise,  until  the  lungs  are  filled,  noting 
the  time  in  seconds. 

2.  Expiring.  Assume  the  required  military  and  special 
position.  Place  the  upper  teeth  upon  the  lower  lip,  as  if  to 
say  v ;  inspire  slowly  until  no  more  air  can  be  inhaled;  then, 
with  the  tongue  near  the  teeth,  as  if  to  give  the  sound  of  s, 
emit  the  breath  as  slowly  as  possible,  making  an  even  and 
continuous  hissing  sound,  so  that  there  can  be  no  mistake 
whether  the  breath  is  constantly  escaping  or  being  held  at 
intervals. 

a.  Effusive.  Inspire  and  emit  the  breath  freely,  as  in 
the  prolonged  sound  of  the  aspirate  h. 

b.  Expulsive.  Inspire  and  emit  the  breath  more  quick- 
ly and  forcibly  than  in  the  effusive,  with  the  sound  of 
the  aspirate  h. 

c.  Explosive.  Inspire  and  expel  the  breath  suddenly 
and  violently,  making  the  sound  of  h  like  a  whisper- 
ed cough.  (Combine  this  exercise  with  the  thrust 
movements  in  calisthenics.) 

3.  Sighing.  Combined  inspiration  and  expiration  emo- 
tionally. 

a.  Inspire  and  expire  suddenly. 

b.  Inspire  and  expire  moderately. 

c.  Inspire  moderately  and  expire  suddenly. 

d.  Inspire  suddenly  and  expire  moderately. 

4.  Gasping.  Convulsive  inspiration  and  gradual  expira- 
tion. 

5.  Panting.  Rapid  and  forcible  inspiration  and  expira- 
tion several  times  in  succession. 

6.  Sobbing  is  sighing  or  gasping  made  slightly  vocal. 

intonation. 
Intoning  Exercises  without  change  of  Force  or  Pitch. 
1.  Prolonging  a  Note  or  Sound.     Fill  the  lungs,  and 
note  the  number  of  seconds  that  one  sound  can  be  smoothly 
prolonged.     The  sound  may  be  one  of  the  vowels  or  conso- 
nant continuants.* 

*  See  Table  of  Sounds,  No.  2.     The  sound  may  be  concrete  or  smoothlj 


ORTHOPHONY.  21 

2.  Counting.  Inspire  as  before,  and  note  the  number 
that  can  be  counted  at  one  expiration. 

3.  Repeating  aloud  a  Line,  Couplet,  or  Stanza.  In- 
spire and  note  the  number  of  times  that  one  line,  couplet, 
or  stanza  can  be  repeated  at  one  expiration.  The  selec- 
tion for  this  exercise  should  consist  mostly  of  monosylla- 
bles. 

4.  Repeating  in  a  Whisper  a  Line,  Couplet,  or  Stanza. 
This  exercise  is  more  difficult  than  No.  3,  in  that  the  repeti- 
tion is  made  in  a  whisper,  but  it  is  considered  very  beneficial 
in  strengthening  the  lungs. 

5.  Laughing.  Fill  the  lungs,  and  laugh  in  a  forcible  ex- 
pulsive manner.  This  exercise  strengthens  the  abdominal 
muscles  more  than  any  other.  A  great  variety  of  laughing 
exercises  can  be  produced  t>y  placing  h  before  the  different 
vowel  sounds.  Ha,  ha,  ha ;  ha,  ha,  ha ;  ha,  ha,  ha ;  ha,  ha, 
ha ;  he,  he,  he ;  he,  he,  he ;  hi,  hi,  hi ;  hi,  hi,  hi ;  ho,  ho,  ho ; 
ho,  ho,  ho ;  ho,  ho,  ho ;  hu,  hu,  hu ;  hii,  hu,  hu. 

Intoning  Exercises  with  changes  of  Force. 

6.  Prolong  a  note  or  sound,  or  repeat  a  sentence. 

a.  Increasing  in  force  to  the  end. 

b.  Decreasing  in  force  to  the  end. 

c.  Increasing  to  the  middle,  and  decreasing  to  the  end. 

d.  Decreasing  to  the  middle,  and  increasing  to  the  end. 

Intoning  Exercises  with  changes  of  Force  and  Pitch. 

7.  Prolong  a  note  or  sound,  or  repeat  a  sentence. 

a.  Increasing  in  force  while  ascending  the  scale. 

b.  Increasing  in  force  while  descending  the  scale. 

c.  Decreasing  in  force  while  ascending  the  scale. 

d.  Decreasing  in  force  while  descending  the  scale. 

e.  Increasing  in  force  to  the  middle,  and  decreasing  to 
the  last  while  ascending  the  scale. 

/.  Decreasing  in  force  to  the  middle,  and  increasing  to 
the  last  while  ascending  the  scale. 

connected,  as  6  continued ;  discrete  or  disconnected,  as  fa,  fa,  fa,  etc.  An- 
other change  may  be  produced  by  making  the  sound  intermittent  or  in  tre- 
mor ;  and  again,  by  assuming  different  qualities  of  voice. 


22  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

g.  Increasing  in  force  to  the  middle,  and  decreasing  to 

the  last  while  descending  the  scale. 
h.  Decreasing  in  force  to  the  middle,  and  increasing  to 
the  last  while  descending  the  scale. 
These  exercises  may  be  varied  by  changes  in  quality  of 
voice,  and  by  tremor,  or  tremulous  voice. 

At  this  time  the  vowel  and  consonant  sounds  should  be 
thoroughly  learned,  and  their  combinations  practiced,  until 
a  word  or  succession  of  words  can  be  pronounced  without 
difficulty.  The  tables  for  this  drill  are  Nos.  2, 3, 4, 5,  6,  7,  8, 
9,  10,  and  11,  and  the  tables  in  Orthophony  called  "Con- 
trast Exercises"  for  imperfect  pronunciation. 

To  overcome  the  habit  of  speaking  and  reading  with  the 
teeth  closed,  or  nearly  closed,  practice  the  vowel  sounds 
with  a  stick  or  finger  between  the  teeth.  Increase  the 
thickness  of  the  stick  until  the  distance  between  the  teeth 
is  satisfactory. 

Again,  repeat  a  sentence,  and  insert  two  fingers  between 
the  teeth  at  every  syllable. 


OKTHOPHONY.  23 


CALISTHENICS. 

Calisthenics,  from  two  Greek  words,  signifying  beauti- 
ful and  strength,  is  distinguished  from  gymnastics  by  quick, 
light  movements,  without  apparatus  or  mechanical  aid,  pro- 
ducing grace  and  symmetry.  Gymnastics  may  be  graceful, 
brisk,  and  slight,  but  are  generally  understood  to  mean  ath- 
letic strength  in  attitudinizing,  lifting,  swinging,  climbing, 
requiring  slow  time  and  heavy  work.  Dio  Lewis  calls  his 
later  and  improved  exercises  "Light  or  Free  Gymnastics" 
to  distinguish  them  from  the  older  and  partially  discarded 
heavy  gymnastics ;  wooden  bells,  wands,  rings,  and  clubs 
taking  the  place  of  iron  bells,  weights,  etc.  But  light  gym- 
nastics are  not  as  easily  adapted  to  the  school-room  as  calis- 
thenics, which  require  no  apparatus,  and  can  be  abandoned 
and  resumed  at  pleasure.  Such  exercises  only  as  are  best 
calculated  to  aid  and  improve  the  voice  will  be  inserted  in 
these  pages.  These  will  include  a  series  of  movements  for 
the  chest,  shoulder,  arm,  hand,  head,  neck,  and  trunk. 

The  calisthenics  in  this  volume  are  for  those  who  have  no 
system  learned,  and  not  to  supersede  those  producing  the 
same  results. 

MOVEMENT.* 
Movement  includes  all  the  requirements  of  action  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  an  exercise.     1st,  Position;  2d, 
Direction;  3d,  Order;  4th,  Manner;  5th,  Time. 

I.    POSITION   FOR   HYGIENIC   EXEECISE. 

There  are  two  general  or  primary  positions,  termed  mili- 
tary or  gymnasium,  and  rostrum,  and  an  indefinite  number 
of  special  positions,  indicating  the  series  of  movements  or 
exercises  which  are  to  follow. 

*  Much  of  the  benefit  arising  from  calisthenics  is  derived  from  the  alter- 
nation of  rigid  and  relaxed  muscles.  There  should  be  an  accent  to  the  mo- 
tion, and  that  accent  should  occur  at  the  climax  of  the  outward  movement ; 
hence  the  muscles  should  be  firm  in  the  outward  movement,  and  relaxed  in 
the  return. 


24 


MANUAL   OF  READING. 


General  Positions. 

1.  The  military,  or  gymnasium  position,  is  to  place  the 
heels  together,  toes  out,  and  hands  at  the  side ;  the  ear, 

shoulder,  hip,  knee,  and  ankle  appearing  to  be 
in  a  perpendicular  line,  and  the  weight  equal 
on  both  feet. 

Full  Description  of  the  Military  Position. 

a.  Heels  together,  or  an  inch  apart. 

b.  Feet  at  right  angles. 

c.  Knees  together. 

d.  Body  and  head  upright. 

e.  Shoulders  back. 

f.  Eyes  front. 

g.  Arms  at  the  side. 
h.  Palms  in,  and  thumbs  front.* 
i.  Mouth  closed  (except  in  vocal  exercise). 

2.  The  rostrum  position  is  an  easy,  upright  speaking  po* 
sition,  with  one  foot  advanced,  and  the 
weight  of  the  body  principally  upon  the 
foot  in  the  rear. 

Full  Description  of  the  Rostrum  Position. 

a.  Body  erect  and  easy. 

b.  One  foot  three  or  four  inches  in  ad- 
vance of  the  other. 

c.  Toes  turned  out  in  an  angle  of  about 
45  degrees. 

d.  Arms  at  rest  at  the  side. 

e.  Heel  of  the  foot  in  advance,  in  a  line 
with  the  heel  of  the  other. 

f.  Hands  relaxed  and  natural  (as  they 
would  hang  at  the  side). 

3.  The  reading  position  is  similar  to  the  rostrum,  save  that 
the  book  should  be  held  in  the  left  hand,  high  enough  to  keep 

*  This  position  is  sometimes  given  with  the  palms  front  and  thumbs  out. 
(See  Figure.) 


ORTHOPHONY.  25 

the  head  from  drooping,  yet  not  so  high  as  to  hide  the  face 
of  the  reader  from  the  audience. 

Special  Positions  and  Movements.     (See  Table  No.  1.) 
The  special  positions  are  always  taken  at  the  commence- 
ment and  between  the  movements  of  a  series.     The  military 
always  precedes  the  special  position,  unless  otherwise  stated. 

I.  CHEST   SERIES. 

1.  Percussing* — Position:  hands  upon  sides,  so  that  the 
fingers  may  touch  in  the  back ;  thumbs  pointing  front,  with 
the  elbows  pressed  back,  and  the  chin  curbed ;  action :  fill 
the  lungs,  and,  with  open  hands,  pat  the  chest  rapidly  and 
gently  from  the  neck  to  the  girdle ;  increase  the  intensity 
of  action  when  no  inconvenience  is  felt  therefrom,  but  ?iever 
bruise  the  flesh. 


2.  Single  Thrusting  from  the  Arm-pit.\ — Position :  fists 
upon  the  chest,  near  the  arm-pit,  in  front ;  elbows  elevated 
and  pressed  back ;  wrists  bent  inward ;  direction,  the  twelve 
points :  three  front,  three  oblique,, three  extended,  and  three 
backward ;  order,  single ;  manner,  direct.     (See  Table  No.  1 .) 

*  Percussing  distributes  the  air  to  the  remote  portions  of  the  lungs  that 
are  less  often  inflated,  and  strengthens  them. 

t  All  the  thrust  exercises  widen  the  chest  in  front,  and  make  the  back 
straight  and  narrow. 

B 


26 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


3.  Double  Thrusting  from  the  Arm-pit* — Position  as  in 
"No.  2 ;  direction,  contrasting,  up  and  down,  or  right  and 
left;  order,  double;  manner,  direct;  action:  1st,  descending 
and  ascending  front,  alternating  four  times  with  both  fists ; 
2d,  descending  extended  to  the  right,  and  the  same  to  the 
left,  four  times  alternately ;  3d,  horizontal  extended  to  the 
right  twice,  the  same  to  the  left,  and  four  times  alternately ; 
4th,  ascending  extended  to  the  right  twice,  and  the  same  to 
the  left,  and  four  times  alternately. 

4.  Thrusting  from  the  Chest  centre. — Position :  fists  on  the 
chest,  backs  front,  knuckles  touching ;  elbows  horizontal 
with  the  shoulders ;  direction,  the  twelve  points ;  order,  sin- 
gle ;  manner,  direct. 


5.  Thrusting  from  the  Sides* — Position:  elbows  back; 
fore-arm  and  fists  parallel  upon  the  sides,  and  horizontal ; 
direction,  three  points  front ;  order,  single ;  manner,  direct. 

6.  Thrusting  from  the  Hips. — Position:  fists  upon  the  back 
of  the  hips,  near  the  girdle,  palms  in,  thumbs  closed,  and  el- 
bows pressed  backward;  direction,  backward ;  order,  single; 
manner,  direct. 


II.  SHOULDER   SEEIES. 

1.  Extending  the  Arms  from  the  Arm-pit. — Position:  el- 
bows horizontal  with  the   shoulders,  thumbs  and  fingers 
joined,  and  drawn  up  under  the  arms  \  direction,  extended 
*  Inspire  at  the  return,  and  expire  at  the  outward  movements. 


OKTHOPHONY. 


27 


(descending  and  horizontal) ;  order,  single ;  manner,  direct ; 
action :  1  st,  bring  the  arms  from  the  special  position  direct- 
ly down  in  the  single  order,  i.  e.  right  hand  twice,  left  hand 
twice,  alternately  twice,  and  simultaneously  twice ;  2d,  bring 
the  arms  from  the  special  position  to  the  horizontal  extend- 
ed in  single  order.  r,         A 


2.  Extending  the  Arms  from  the  Shoulder  top. — Position : 
fingers  rest  upon  the  top  of  the  shoulder  near  the  joint, 
thumbs  back,  elbows  extended  horizontally  from  the  shoul- 
ders ;  direction,  extended  (three  points) ;  order,  single ;  man- 
ner, direct ;  action :  bring  the  arms  from  the  special  posi- 
tion, 1st,  to  the  descending  extended;  2d,  to  the  horizontal; 
3d,  to  the  ascending  extended  in  the  usual  single  order.  (See 
No.  1  of  this  series.) 

3.  Shoulder  Lifting. — Position,  military  ;  arms  relaxed ; 
direction,  upward ;  order,  single ;  manner,  direct ;  action : 
raise  the  right  shoulder  twice,  the  left  twice,  alternate  twice, 
and  twice  simultaneously. 

4.  Rotary  Movement? — Position  and  order  as  in  No.  3 ; 
manner,  rotary ;  action :  bring  the  right  shoulder  forward, 
upward,  backward,  downward  twice,  twice  with  the  left, 


*  To  teach  quickly,  let  the  pupils  count  four ;  at  one,  bring  shoulder  for- 
ward ;  two,  upward  ;  three,  backward ;  four,  downward.  It  is  a  good  ex- 
ercise for  removing  a  stoop  or  round  of  the  shoulders,  as  indeed  are  all 
the  chest  and  shoulder  exercises,  with  No.  4  of  the  Elbow  Series,  and  No.  7 
of  the  Arm  Series. 


28 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


^dZI 


etc.    Let  the  arms  be  loose,  and  swing  as  they  may,  dur* 
ing  this  exercise. 

5.  Swinging  the  Arms  horizontally  backward. — Position : 
the  palms  together,  horizontal  front ;  direction,  backward ; 
order,  double ;  manner,  direct ;  action :  swing  the  arms  back- 
ward  and  forward  eight  or  sixteen  times. 


III.   ELBOW   SERIES. 


1.  Hands  clasped  and  upon  the  Head. — Position:  hands 
clasped  and  placed  upon  the  head,  palms  down,  and  elbows 
extended  at  the  side;  direction,  upward,  etc.;  order,  double; 


manner,  direct ;  action :  1st,  raise  the  hands  above  the  head 
without  unclasping  four  times ;  2d,  upon  the  back  of  the 


ORTHOPHONY. 


29 


neck,  and  back  to  the  top  of  the  head  four  times ;  3d,  upon 
the  chest  in  front  and  back  four  times ;  4th,  alternate  from 
the  back  to  the  crown,  and  from  the  front  to.  the  crown  four 
times,  and  finally  from  front  to  back  four  times  without 
stopping  at  the  top  of  the  head. 

2.  Throwing  back  the  Elbows* — Position :  hands  upon 
the  hips,  thumbs  back ;  action :  press  the  elbows  as  far  back 
as  possible,  returning  each  time  to  the  extended.  Repeat 
this  exercise  four  or  eight  times. 


IV.   ARM    SERIES. 


fc  1.  Stringing  the  Arms  backward* — Position :  palms  to- 
gether, horizontal  front ;  action :  swing  the  hands  down  to 
the  side,  and  back  as  far  as  possible. 

2.  Swinging  the  Arms  upward.\ — Position  like  No.  1 ;  ac- 
tion :  swing  the  arms  from  the  horizontal  front  up  to  the 
perpendicular  and  back  four  or  eight  times. 

3.  Swinging  the  Arms  outward  and  xipward.\ — Position, 
military;  action:  swing  the  arms  through  the  line  called 
extended  to  the  perpendicular. 

4.  Twisting  the  Arms. — Position,  arms  horizontal  front; 


*  Take  full  breath  at  the  relaxation  of  muscle,  and  breathe  out  suddenly 
at  the  backward  movement. 

t  Let  these  exercises  be  done  in  regular  order ;  right  arm  twice,  left 
twice,  alternate  twice,  and  simultaneous  twice. 


30 


MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 


order,  double ;  action :  twist  the  arms  by  turning  the  hands 
over  and  back  eight  times;  change  position  to  perpendicular, 
and  repeat ;  change  to  the  horizontal,  and  repeat. 

5.  Chopping. — Position,  hands  raised  above  the  head  to 
the  right ;  direction,  descending  to  the  left  in  front ;  order, 
double;  action,  like  chopping,  eight  times;  reverse,  and  chop 
upward  to  the  left. 

6,  Mowing. — Position,  arms  to  the  right  (see  Figure) ;  di- 
rection, horizontal  to  the  left ;  order,  double ;  manner,  di- 
rect ;  action  as  if  mowing  on  level  ground ;  reverse,  and 
move  as  if  mowing  up  hill. 


7.  Sawing* — Position:  body  bent  to  the  right,  elbow 
above  the  line  of  the  shoulders,  and  hands  closed;  direction, 
downward;  order,  double.;  manner,  direct ;  action,  moving 
both  hands  up  and  down  as  if  sawing. 


V.   HAND   SERIES. 

Opening  and  shutting  the  Hands.  Position :  arms  at  the 
side,  hands  closed ;  action :  open  and  close  the  hands  four 
times ;  arms  to  horizontal  extended ;  open  and  close  the 
hands  four  times;  perpendicular  and  repeat;  to  the  hori- 
zontal front  and  repeat. 

*  The  sawing  exercise  is  excellent  for  enlarging  the  chest  and  increasing 
the  strength  of  the  muscles. 


ORTHOPHONY.  31 


VI.  HEAD  AND  NECK   SERIES. 

1.  Turning the  Head. — Position,  military;  action:  turn  the 
head  horizontally  to  the  right,  so  that  the  face  will  be  over 
the  right  shoulder,  and  back  to  the  front  twice,  to  the  left 
twice,  alternate  right  and  left  twice,  stopping  in  front  each 
time. 

2.  Bowing. — Position,  military ;  direction,  up  and  down ; 
action :  1.  look  down  to  the  point  descending  front,  and  then 
horizontal  front  four  times ;  2.  look  up  to  the  point  ascending 
front,  then  horizontal  four  times ;  3.  look  alternately  down 
and  front,  up  and  front  four  times ;  4.  look  down  and  up  four 
times  without  stopping  in  front.  (This  may  be  repeated, 
letting  the  head  fall  to  the  right  and  left  instead  of  front.) 

3.  Looking  up  to  right  and  left. — Position,  military ;  di- 
rection, ascending  oblique  and  descending  front;  action:  1. 
look  up  to  the  point  ascending  oblique,  and  down  in  front 
four  times ;  2.  the  same  to  the  left ;  3.  alternate  right  and 
left  four  times,  stopping  each  time  to  look  down. 

4.  Rotary  or  Rolling  Movement. — Position,  military ;  man- 
ner, rotary ;  action :  bow  the  head  front,  and,  letting  it  help- 
lessly fall,  move  it  horizontally  in  a  circle  upon  the  shoul- 
ders.    Repeat  the  circle  four  times. 

VII.   TRUNK   SERIES. 

1.  Bending  the  Body  forward  and  baclcicard. — Position, 
military;  action:  1.  bend  the  body  horizontally  front,  and  re- 
sume the  perpendicular  four  times;  2.  bend  backward,  and 
resume  the  perpendicular  four  times ;  3.  alternate  forward 
and  backward,  stopping  each  time  at  the  perpendicular  four 
times ;  4.  bend  forward,  then  backward  four  times  without 
stopping  at  the  perpendicular. 

2.  Betiding  the  Body  to  the  right  and  left. — This  is  like 
No.  1,  except  in  direction,  which  is  right  and  left  instead  of 
forward  and  back. 

3.  Rotary,  or  Body  rolling. — Position,  military  ;  action : 
bend  the  body  horizontally  front,  and,  relaxing  the  muscles, 
move  it  to  the  right,  back,  left,  and  around  to  the  front  again 
in  a  kind  of  circle ;  repeat  four  times. 


32  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 


II.    DIRECTION    OF   MOVEMENT. 

Direction  is  the  line  or  course  in  which  any  thing  moves. 
In  calisthenics  or  gesture,  direction  is  the  course  which  the 
arm,  hand,  etc.,  takes  with  regard  to  the  body,  and  is  named 
both  from  the  side  of  the  person  where  it  ends,  and  from  the 
degree  of  elevation  which  this  ending  or  climax  attains. 

All  gestures  made  before  one  are  called  "front;"  those 
made  directly  to  the  right  or  left  are  called  "extended;" 
those  made  between  the  "front"  and  "  extended?'*  are  called 
"  oblique  ;"  and,  lastly,  those  made  back  of  the  extended  are 
called  " back-oblique"  or  " backward"  With  regard  to  the 
elevation,  all  gestures  or  motions  whose  climax  or  ending 
is  on  a  horizontal  line  with  the  shoulders,  are  called  hori- 
zontal;  all  that  have  their  climax  or  ending  below  the  hori- 
zontal are  called  descending ;  and  all  above  the  horizontal 
are  called  ascending. 

Hence  we  have  twelve  different  points  of  direction : 

I.  1.  Descending  front.         III.  1.  Descending  extended. 

2.  Horizontal  front.  2.  Horizontal  extended. 

3.  Ascending  front.  3.  Ascending  extended. 
II.  1.  Descending  oblique.    IV.  1.  Descending  backward. 

2.  Horizontal  oblique.  2.  Horizontal  backward. 

3.  Ascending  oblique.  3.  Ascending  backward. 

III.    ORDER    OF  MOVEMENT. 

By  order  of  movement  is  meant  the  successive  order  in 
which  the  right  or  left  hand,  arm,  etc.,  are  used  in  action. 
For  convenience,  Order  has  been  given  as  No.  1  /Single,  and 
No.  2  Double. 

Single  order  is  when  the  motions  are  made  first  with  the 
right  arm  or  hand ;  then  with  the  left,  each  a  certain  num- 
ber of  times  ;  second,  alternate  with  the  right  and  left  a  cor- 
responding number  of  times ;  and  third,  a  simultaneous  ac- 
tion of  the  right  and  left  the  same  number  of  times.  Ex- 
ample :  thrusting  with  the  right  hand  twice,  with  the  left 
twice,  alternate  twice,  and  simultaneous  twice. 

Double  order  is  made  with  the  hands  simultaneously, 
changing  only  the  directions  during  the  exercises;  i.  e.,  make 


ORTHOPHONY.  33 

a  certain  number  of  motions  in  some  one  direction  with  both 
hands,  then  in  another  direction  with  both  hands,  thus  con- 
tinuing until  the  exercise  is  completed.  Example :  thrust 
both  hands  down  front  twice,  up  front  twice,  alternate  up 
and  down  twice ;  then  twice  to  the  right,  twice  to  the  left ; 
then  alternate  right  and  left  twice. 

IV.    MANNER   OF   MOVEMENT. 

The  manner  of  movement  in  calisthenics  or  gesture  may- 
be direct  ovrotary :  direct,  when  the  point  of  direction  in 
the  climax  is  attained  in  a  straight  or  direct  line,  and  rotary 
when  by  a  roundabout  or  rotary  motion. 

V.    TIME    OF  MOVEMENT. 

In  these  exercises  there  should  be  a  regularly  recurring 
accent  of  motion  or  rhythm.  The  outward  motion  in  many 
exercises  will  most  naturally  receive  the  accent,  and  can  be 
timed  in  various  ways :  by  counting  in  quadruple  time,  by 
tapping  with  pointer  or  cane,  or  by  music  itself  in  quadru- 
ple time.  If  counting  is  preferred,  and  a  class  is  to  practice, 
let  all  count,  accenting  the  odd  numbers  to  eight,  or,  sub- 
stituting and  for  the  unaccented  part,  count  four ;  thus,  one 
and,  two  and,  three  and,  four  and ;  again,  one  and,  etc., 
over  and  over  again  until  the  exercise  is  finished. 

B2 


34  MANUAL   OP   READING.     » 


AKTICULATIOK 

The  principal  defects  of  articulation  consist  of  a  uniform- 
ly weak  or  thick  utterance,  lisping  and  stammering. 

1.  A  weak  manner  of  speech  may  arise  from  ill  health  or 
lassitude,  from  diffidence  or  embarrassment,  from  indolence 
or  affectation.  In  cases  of  weakness,  health  must  be  im- 
proved before  any  great  change  can  be  made  in  the  voice 
power.  Such  exercise  in  respiration,  intonation,  and  calis- 
thenics as  can  be  borne  from  day  to  day,  will  greatly  aid  in 
regaining  strength  if  the  weakness  is  chiefly  in  the  lungs. 
Indeed,  tendencies  toward  consumption  have,  in  many  in- 
stances, been  overcome  by  judicious  vocal  training. 

If  weakness  of  utterance  arises  from  diffidence,  let  no  op- 
portunity pass  that  will  overcome  want  of  confidence.  Con- 
versation, recitation,  declamation,  singing,  and  dialogues 
should  be  engaged  in,  however  irksome  the  task,  and  what- 
ever failures  accrue.  If  it  arises  from  embarrassment,  keep 
the  lungs  well  filled  or  inflated,  and  there  will  follow  com- 
parative self-possession.  When  the  defect  arises  from  indo- 
lence or  affectation,  there  is  little  hope  of  remedy. 

2.  A  thick  manner  of  utterance  is  sometimes  the  result  of 
malformation,  or  accidental  injury  of  the  vocal  organs.  In 
such  cases  permanent  cures  are  rare.  Surgical  operations 
will  remove  any  superfluous  growth,  but  for  an  absence  of 
parts  there  is  no  chance  of  remedy.  A  thick  manner  of 
speech  is  often  the  result  of  intemperance  in  the  use  of  liq- 
uors, tobacco,  snuff,  or  other  drugs,  and  can  only  be  cured 
by  abstemiousness,  exercise,  and  cleanliness  of  the  head-cav- 
ities, chest,  and  throat.  The  mucous  linings  of  the  head- 
cavities  may  become  thickened  by  catarrhal  difficulties,  and 
produce  thickness  of  speech. 

3.  Lisping  is  the  habit  of  substituting  th  soft  for  s  and  z. 
It  can  be  cured  if  the  lisper  has  sufficient  will-power  and  pa- 
tience. Practice  faithfully,  two  or  three  times  a  day,  a  list 
of  words  containing  s  and  z,  and  th.     Care  should  be  taken 


ORTHOPHONY. 


35 


that  the  tip  of  the  tongue  he  pressed  lightly  against  the 
edges  of  the  upper  incisor  teeth  to  produce  th,  and  against 
the  gums  of  the  same  upper  teeth  to  produce  the  sound 
of  s.  Besides  the  practice,  every  lisp  in  reading,  speaking, 
or  conversing  should  be  corrected  when  made.* 


TABLE  NO.  15. 

Words  for  Practice  by  Contrast. 


thale 

for  sale. 

hathte 

for  haste. 

thake 
that 

a 
a 

sake, 
sat. 

patht 
earth 

a 

ti 

past, 
cars. 

thalt 

a 

salt. 

thtarth 

a 

stars. 

thee 

a 

see. 

callth 

a 

calls. 

thend 

thigths 

thick 

a 
a 
tt 

send, 
sighs, 
sick. 

pleathe 

betht 

thkeith 

tt 
u 
tt 

please. 

best. 

skies. 

thold 

tt 

sold. 

kith'd 

a 

kissed. 

thoon 
thot 
thuit 
thuch 

a 
tt 
a 
ti 

soon, 
sot. 
suit, 
such. 

ro-thy 
loth-ing 
joth-ling 
mu-thic 

a 
a 
tt 
a 

rosy, 
losing, 
jostling, 
music. 

thouth 

a 

south. 

duth-ter 

tt 

duster. 

thour 

a 

sour. 

tru-ithm 

a 

truism. 

thong 
thilly 
thwingths 
thlow 

a 

tt 

,    a 

H 

song, 
silly, 
swings, 
slow. 

con-the-quenthe  " 
con-thtan-thy       " 
cauth-eth             " 
murmur  th 

consequence, 
constancy, 
causes, 
murmurs. 

thmile 

a 

smile. 

whith-le 

a 

whistle. 

thnatch 

a 

snatch. 

bleth-ed 

tt 

blessed. 

thpade 
thrau 

tt 
tt 

spade, 
straw. 

rith-eth 
roth-eth 

a 

a 

rises, 
roses. 

thky 
thtout 

a 
a 

sky. 
stout. 

raith-eth 
wish-eth 

a 
a 

raises, 
wishes. 

thenths 

tt 

cents. 

thooth-ing 

tt 

soothing. 

thel-lar 

tt 

cellar. 

thlum-berth 

tt 

slumbers. 

thi-der 
Tha-rah 

a 
tt 

cider. 
Sarah. 

vdith-mith 
exer-thith-eth 

a 
a 

dismiss, 
exercises. 

*  Lisping  really  belongs  under  "defects  by  substitution," but  has  been 
considered  worthy  of  special  study. 


36  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

4.  Stammering  is  caused  by  diffidence,  embarrassment,  or 
an  attempt  at  speech  without  proper  control  of  the  vocal 
organs.  To  overcome  this  defect  is  more  difficult  than  that 
of  lisping.  The  stammerer  should  keep  the  lungs  well  in- 
flated while  speaking,  and  try  to  be  hopeful,  cheerful,  and 
self-confident.  First,  the  stammerer  must  believe  that  he 
can  be  cured,  not  despairing  with  any  number  of  failures, 
but  energetically  persevering  in  the  exercises  as  directed. 
There  should  be  systematic  training  in  all  the  tables  belong- 
ing to  Orthophony,  particularly  on  those  in  respiration,  in- 
tonation, and  calisthenics,  in  order  to  obtain  control  of  the 
voluntary  muscles. 

Note. — Some  people's  thoughts  outrun  their  power  of  utterance,  and  they 
stammer  because  all  the  words  can  not  come  forth  at  once.  It  is  a  fact 
worthy  of  attention  that  stammerers  seldom  stammer  when  singing.  Is  it 
not  because  the  words  are  arranged  in  proper  order  and  time  without  their 
assistance,  thus  relieving  them  of  all  responsibility  ?  It  is  the  same  with 
poetry.  Cures  have  been  performed  by  repeating  lines  of  poetry,  giving 
the  rhythmical  accent,  and  keeping  time  with  the  finger.  At  every  repeti- 
tion increase  the  speed.  Try  this  three  times  a  day,  sleep  enough,  live 
temperately  in  all  things,  do  nothing  to  prostrate  the  nervous  system,  and 
the  chances  are  you  will  recover. 

Example.  "  '  Come  back !  come  back  l'  he  cried  in  grief, 

Across  the  stormy  water, 
'And  I'll  forgive  your  highland  chief, 
My  daughter— oh  my  daughter  V  * 


ORTHOPHONY. 


37 


ENUNCIATION. 

The  most  common  defects  or  errors  of  enunciation  are 
found  in  the  substitution,  omission,  and  addition  of  sounds  ■ 
in  syllables,  and  the  overlapping  of  words  in  sentences,  j 
When  there  is  no  organic  defect,  these  faults  result  from 
carelessness  or  ignorance,  and  can  be  remedied  by  constant 
attention  to,  and  correction  of  every  error  of  the  kind.  Fix- 
ed habits  of  articulation  or  enunciation  contracted  by  uncul- 
tivated associations  and  incompetent  teachers  are  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  correct.  To  correct  an  error  the  moment 
it  is  noticed,  either  in  reading  or  speaking,  may  be  humiliat- 
ing, but  will  prove  a  sure  remedy.  In  the  following  list  the 
right-hand  column  is  the  corrected  one,  for  practice  in  sub- 
stitution, omission,  and  addition. 


bi  or  bu 

lik  or  luk 

set 

shet 

sence 

git 

said 

dooz 

ketch 

h6m 

again 

c'arse 

lie 


TABLE  NO.  16. 

List  in  Substitution* 

Vowels. 

farm     ) 


(said) 
(does) 


(again) 


for  by. 

"  like. 

"  sit. 

"  shut. 

"  since. 

"  get. 

"  sed. 

"  dtiz. 

"  catch. 

"  home. 

"  agen. 

"  course 

"  oil. 

"  soil. 

"  point. 

"  bin. 


"  heard. 

"  first. 

"  city. 

"  measure. 

"  steady. 

"  bonnet. 

"  cellar, 

sile  "    soil.  meller  "  mallow, 

pint  "   point.  piller  "  pillow. 

ben       (been)  "   bin.  childurn  "  children. 

*  Make  a  sentence  for  each  word,  and  pronounce  it  properly. 


fawrm  j 

father  ) 

father  ) 

dence    ) 

darnce  f 

heerd 

fust 

ceetee 

maysure 

stiddy 

biinnit 

suller 

meller 

piller 

childurn 


for  farm. 
"   father. 
"   dance. 


38 


MANUAL    OP   READING. 


sMll 

for  shall. 

forgit 

ware 

"    were. 

modist 

lass 

"    loss. 

miint 

nar 

"   nor. 

Gawd 

cawurd 

"    cord. 

nawt 

dreen 

"    drain. 

rench 

lam 

"   learn. 

gwine 

idee 

"   idea. 

atter 

for  forget. 

"  modest. 

"  ment. 

"  God. 

"  not. 

"  rinse. 

"  going. 

"  after. 


Consonants. 

t  for  d,  as  worts  for  words. 

lats       "   lads,  etc. 
th  soft  for  th  hard,  as  baths      for  baths. 

beneath  u   beneath. 
z  for  s  soft,  as  rize  for  rise. 

deceazed  "   deceased. 
w  for  v,  as  wine        for  vine. 

winegar  "    vinegar. 
v  for  iv,  as  vill         for  will. 

valking  "    walking. 

The  errors  with  to  and  v  are  peculiar  to  foreigners ;  there 
are  also  those  peculiar  to  children,  viz.  :* 

t  for  cA,  as  tarles  for  Charles, 
ticken   "    chicken. 
t  for  c  hard,  as  take  for  cake, 
tart    "   cart. 
d  for  g,  as  dood  for  good. 

dirl     "   girl. 
d  for  J,  as  doe  for  Joe. 
don  "    John. 

*  Dr.  Comstock  says:  "First  I  try  to  show  the  children  the  difference  of 
the  position  of  the  organs  of  speech  in  producing  k  and  g,  t  and  d,  etc.  If 
this  fails,  I  open  my  mouth  as  widely  as  possible,  so  that  the  tip  of  the 
tongue  can  not  touch  the  gums  of  the  upper  teeth,  and  request  the  child 
to  open  his  in  like  manner.  I  then  direct  him  to  pronounce  after  me  the 
following  syllables :  ga,  g'a,  ga,  g&,  gi,  gi,  go,  go,  g3,  gu,  gu,  gii,  ka,  ka, 
ka,  ka,  etc."  When  this  scheme  fails  he  advises  the  teacher  and  pupil  to 
press  back  and  down  the  tongue  with  the  index  finger,  and  pronounce  the 
syllables  given  in  the  preceding  exercise. 


ORTHOPHONY. 

TABLE  NO.  17. 

List  in 

Omission. 

Omission  ofr. 

Omission  of  d. 

g'a'den      for  garden. 

wil's     for  wilds. 

ka'd           "    card. 

fiel's       "   .fields. 

wo'd          "   word. 

frien's     "   friends. 

lo'd            "    lord. 

an'          "   and. 

reg'a'd        "   regard. 

Ian'         "   land. 

w'a'mer      "   warmer. 

san'         "    sand. 

gove'n       "   govern. 

kin'ness "   kindness, 

Feb'uary   "   February. 

he'a'ken     "    hearken. 

Omission  ofh.* 

sea'            "   scar. 

wile      for  while. 

fa'              "   far. 

wTen       "   when. 

m'a'k          "    mark. 

wy         "   why. 

fa'tha        "   farther. 

wistle    "    whistle. 

wip        "    whip. 

Omission  ofg. 

wat        "    what. 

readin'  for  reading. 

s'roud    "    shroud. 

feelin'    "   feeling. 

'urt        "   hurt. 

writin'   "   writing. 

'andful  "   handful. 

bein'      u   being. 

'arvest  "    harvest. 

seein'     "    seeing. 

s'rink     "    shrink. 

buyin'    u   buying. 

'ermit     "   hermit. 

singin'    "    singing. 

Omissions  Miscellaneous. 

Omission  of  t  by  prolonging  s. 

reg'lar          for  regular. 

con  sis'  for  consists. 

sev'ral           "    several. 

enlis'      "    enlists. 

rhet'ric          "   rhetoric. 

protes'  "   protests. 

jub'lee           "  jubilee. 

wris'       "   wrists. 

trav'ler         "   traveler. 

fac's       "   facts. 

fam'ly            "   family. 

sofly     "   softly. 

hist'ry           "    history. 

swif ly  "   swiftly. 

des'late         "    desolate. 

las'         "   last. 

prob'ble        M   probable. 

*  In  the  following  words  wh  has  the  sound  of  h  : 

whoot.                  whole. 

wholly.                     whose. 

whoop.                 who. 

wholesome.              whom. 

39 


40  MANUAL   OF   READING. 


TABLE  NO. 

18. 

List  in 

Addition, 

Addition  ofu. 

ael       for  ale. 

elum            for  elm. 

keard    "   card. 

helum            "    helm. 

overwhelum "    overwhelm, 

Addition  of  h. 

realum          "    realm. 

hour     for  our. 

aiir                "    air  (er). 

hink       "    ink. 

noiir              "    nor. 

harm     "    arm. 
hown    "    own,  e 

Addition  ofe. 

keow           for  cow. 

Addition  of  n. 

teown           "    town. 

mint     for  might 

etc. 


feound  "    found. 

The  addition  of  a  or  a  is  so  common,  examples  are  not 
necessary.     He'a  wenta  toa  schoola. 

Overlapping, 

There  is  an  error  of  enunciation  which  deserves  especial 
attention,  and  that  is,  the  overlapping  of  successive  words, 
a  blending  of  the  last  sounds  of  one  word  with  the  first 
sounds  of  the  succeeding  word.* 

His  small  eyes  instead  of  His  small  lies. 

His  hour  is  up  "        "  His  sour  is  sup. 

Let  all  men  praise  him       u        "  Let  tall  men  pray  sim. 

Water  air  and  earth  "        M  Water  rare  and  dearth. 

The  man  had  oars  to  row  her  over. 
The  man  had  doors  to  row  her  rover. 

Can  there  be  an  aim  more  lofty  ? 
Can  there  be  a  name  more  lofty  ? 

He  was  awed  at  the  works  of  labor  and  art  before  him. 
He  was  sawed  at  the  works  sof  labor  an  dart  before  rim. 

Oh  for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness. 
Oh  for  a  lodge  in  some  vas'  swilderness. 

*  The  examples  here  given  are  from  the  Introduction  to  "Sanders's 
Readers." 


ORTHOPHONY. 


41 


Words  to  Practice  in  Contrast. 
These  tables,  arranged  so  as  to  place  words  of  similai 
termination  in  contrast,  are  of  importance  to  students  who 
desire  to  speak  perfect  English.  Contrasted  words  should 
be  practiced  alike  with  the  rising  or  falling  inflection,  as 
continent',  consonant' ;  or,  continent^,  consonant^ ;  or,  double 
thus,  continent',  continent^,  consonant',  consonant^. 


Contrast  No.  1.     fo 
feas'i-ble. 
ris'i-ble. 
ter'ri-ble. 
plaus'i-ble. 
el'i-gi-ble. 
cred'i-ble. 
leg'i-ble. 
vis'i-ble. 
aud'i-ble. 
In-vin'cl-ble. 
re-spon'si-ble. 
de-du'ci-ble. 
di-vis'i-ble. 
in-com-pat'i-ble. 
in-telli-gi-ble. 

Contrast  No.  2. 

countless. 

good'ness. 

bless'ed-ness. 

costli-ness. 

bus'i-ness. 

la'zi-ness. 

dauntless. 

listless-ness. 


TABLE  NO.  19. 

hie  and  able  (often  given  tible)? 
laud'a-ble. 
en'vl-a-ble. 
pref'er-a-ble. 
cred'it-a-ble. 
rev'6-ca-ble. 
ven'er-a-ble. 
sylla-ble. 
mis'er-a-ble. 
mem'o-ra-ble. 
rea'son-a-ble. 
ad-vis'a-ble. 
con-sid'er-a-ble. 
com-mend'a-ble. 
as-sign'a-ble. 
re-H'a-ble. 

Iss  and  oiXs  (often  given  iss). 
gra'cious. 
pre'cioiis. 
val'or-ous. 
mag-nan'i-mous. 
vo-lu'min-oiis. 
su-per'flu-ous. 
mul-ti-tu'din-ous. 
in-con'gru-ous. 


*  Repeat  these  endings  alternately  several  times  in  quick  succession. 


42 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


TABLE  NO.  20. 

Contrast  No.  3.    ity  and  ety. 

i  and  y  short.  e  and  y  short. 

u-til'i-ty.  so-bri'e-tf, 

no-bil'i-ty.  ea-ti'e-ty. 

de-bil'i-ty.  anx-i'e-ty. 

a-bil'i-ty.  pfe-ty. 

ier-tiri-ty.  so-cl'e-ty. 

u-til'i-ty.  pro-prl'e-ty. 

fa-eil'i-ty.  va-ri'e-ty. 

ac-tiv'i-ty.  e-bri'e-ty. 

ac-cliv'i-ty.  gay'e-ty. 

af-fin'i-ty.  con-tra-rl'e-tj^ 

du-plic'i-ty.  no-t  o-ri'e-ty. 
pos-si-bil'i-ty. 


Contrast  No.  4. 
con'ti-nent. 
el'e-ment. 
gov'ern-ment. 
em'i-nent. 
som'no-lent. 
judg'ment. 
con-sist'ent. 
nu'tri-ment. 
al-lure'ment. 
sen'ti-ment. 
com'pli-ment. 
rep-re-sent', 
tran-scend'ent. 
tur'bu-lent. 
firm'a-ment. 
de-lin'quent. 
com-po'nent. 
ru'di-ment. 
in'stru-ment. 
im-per'ti-nent. 


hit  and  tint. 
con'so-nant. 
el'e-gant. 
cor'mo-rant. 
el'e-phant. 
ar'ro-gant. 
rec're-ant. 
men'di-cant. 
res'o-nant. 
at-tend'ant. 
in-ces'sant. 
ob-serv'ant. 
miri-tant. 
mis'cre-ant. 
ma-lig'nant. 
syc'o-phant. 
prot'est-ant. 
dom'i-nant. 
con-vers'ant. 
in-con'stant. 
pur-su'ant. 


ORTHOPHONY. 


43 


Contrast  No. 

coun'sel-or. 

gov'ern-or. 

me'di-a/tor. 

sen'a-tor. 

an-te'ri-or. 

ex-te'ri-or. 

in-te'ri-or. 

sii-pe'ri-or. 

com-pet'i-tor. 

ex-ec'ti-tor. 

pred-e-ces'sor. 

in-ter-ces'sor. 

leg-is-la/tor. 

Contrast  No.  6. 

pos'i-tive. 

prim'i-tive. 

in-fin'i-tive. 

sens'i-tive. 

m-quis'i-tive. 

len'i-tive. 

de-fin'i-tive. 

in-tu'i-tive. 

in-trans'i-tive. 


TABLE  NO.  21. 

5.     or  and  tir  (given  as  &r.) 
cir'cu-lar. 
con'su-lar. 
sim'i-lar. 
mus'cu-lar. 
jug'u-lar. 
pop'u-lar. 
in'su-lar. 
gran'u-lar. 
sec'u-lar. 
par-tic'u-lar. 
ver-nac'u-lar. 
au-ric'u-lar. 
per-pen-dic'u-lar. 

itive  and  titive  (given  dtive). 
com-par'a-tive. 
su-perla-tive. 
in-dic'a-tive. 
nar'ra-tive. 
de-clar'a-tive. 
im-per'a-tive. 
de-riv'a-tive. 
re-stor'a-tive. 
pre-rog'a-tiva 


Contrast  No.  7. 
vi'o-let. 
min'u-et. 
cab'in-et. 
vi'o-lent. 
se'rl-es. 
spe'ci-es. 


U  and  ate,  etc. 
vi'o-late. 
vin'di-cate. 
prel'ate. 
vi'o-late. 
se-ri-oiis. 
spe'ci-oiis. 


44 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


PRONUNCIATION. 

TABLE  NO.  22. 

Words  in  which  u  has  the  sound  of  o  in  do  (see  Rule  for  TTy 
page  48) : 


true. 

truly. 

imbrue. 

construe. 

truth. 

truthfully. 

truthfulness. 

truism. 


fruit. 

fruitful. 

fruitfulness. 

rude. 

rudely. 

rudeness. 

protrude. 

protrusion. 


intrude. 

intrusion. 

truce. 

spruce. 

ruse. 

sprucely. 

abstruse. 


prune. 

pruning. 

sure. 

surety. 

surely. 

assurance. 

insurance. 


Words  in  which  it  has  the  sound  of  lew  in  view: 


due. 

duly. 

sue. 

suit. 

suited. 

suiting. 

nude. 


nudely. 

purely. 

exude. 

interlude. 

prelude. 

preclude. 

deduce. 


induce. 

conduce. 

June. 

use. 

useful. 

usefully. 

illume. 


presume. 

consume. 

tune. 

tuning. 

pure. 

dual. 

lunar. 


In  preterits  of  verbs  and  participles,  the  e  in  eel  is  Mip« 
pressed. 


feared, 
praised, 
admired, 
tossed. 


suppressed, 
stopped, 
soused, 
beloved. 


blessed, 
cursed, 
learned. 


picked, 
winged, 
toused. 


In  adjectives  not  participial,  the  e  in  ed  is  sounded, 
naked.  wretched.         learned.  soused, 

ragged.  beloved.  winged.  confounded, 

striped.  blessed.  toused.  abused, 

wicked.  cursed. 


ORTHOPHONY. 


45 


TABLE  NO.  23. 

Terminations  el  and  en. 


In  the  folio  win 

g  words  the  last  e  should  be 

suppressed : 

hazel. 

sunken. 

burden. 

shorten. 

navel. 

leaven. 

garden. 

seven. 

ravel. 

driven. 

riven. 

fallen. 

shekel. 

quicken. 

even. 

deepen. 

shrivel. 

thicken. 

woven. 

threaten. 

swivel. 

smitten. 

tighten. 

shaken. 

weasel. 

listen. 

sicken. 

open. 

Lovel. 

roughen. 

silken. 

weaken. 

drivel. 

spoken. 

wooden. 

taken. 

grovel. 

soften. 

broken. 

token. 

mantel. 

often. 

swollen. 

ousel. 

fasten. 

leaden. 

laden. 

rivel. 

deafen. 

earthen. 

harden. 

shovel. 

hasten. 

glisten. 

graven. 

snivel. 

raven. 

kitten. 

oven. 

easel. 

heaven. 

stiffen. 

given. 

golden. 

happen. 

vixen. 

frighten. 

waxen. 

waken. 

dozen. 

whiten. 

frozen. 

drunken. 

sloven. 

lighten. 

molten. 

gladden. 

In  the  following  words  the  last 

i  e  should  be  sounded : 

vessel. 

aspen. 

gravel. 

bitumen. 

travel. 

catechumen. 

tinsel. 

cerumen. 

flannel. 

chicken. 

sorrel. 

hymen. 

chisel. 

fl  amen. 

gospel. 

hyphen. 

kernel. 

kitchen. 

hovel. 

latten. 

revel. 

legumen. 

model. 

linen. 

level. 

marten. 

fuel. 

mitten. 

bevel. 

mynchen. 

chapel. 

omen. 

morsel. 

hatter. 

pommel. 

platen. 

laurel. 

pollen. 

towel. 

regimen. 

parcel. 

siren. 

trowel. 

sloven. 

marvel. 

specimen. 

rowel. 

sudden. 

tassel. 

ticken. 

vowel. 

woolen. 

46  MANUAL  OF  BEADING. 

Adjectives  changed  into  adverbs  by  the  addition  of  ly, 
the  ed  is  often  full,  as  confess'd,  confessedly,  design'd,  de- 
signedly. 

My  is  pronounced  my  when  emphatic,  otherwise  mp  (not 
me,  as  many  seem  to  think),  and  mine  is  pronounced  mine  in 
common  language,  drama,  etc.,  where  sublimity  does  not  re- 
quire the  full  long  sound  of  i3  and  when  not  emphatic. 

The  article  or  adjective  the  is  pronounced  the  (thee)  be- 
fore a  vowel  or  h  mute,  and  thu  (thu)  before  a  consonant  or 
h  aspirate. 

The  article  or  adjective  a  has  a  short  sound  nearly  like  a 
in  at. 

So  powerful  is  the  influence  of  habit,  that  after  systemat- 
ic training  pupils  will  frequently  commit  errors  in  articula- 
tion and  enunciation  when  reading  successive  paragraphs. 
To  remedy  this,  the  teacher  must  return  to  the  analyzing 
process,  beginning  by  pronouncing  every  word  of  a  sen- 
tence separately,  then  each  syllable  of  the  words,  followed 
by  the  sounds  in  the  syllables.  (Class  Methods,  page  66.) 
William  Kussel  gives  a  very  excellent  and  similar  mode  of 
correction,  viz.,  "Begin  at  the  end  of  a  line,  sentence,  or 
paragraph,  so  as  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  reading  negli- 
gently; then,  1st,  articulate  every  element  in  every  word 
separately  and  very  distinctly  throughout  the  line  or  sen- 
tence ;  2d,  enunciate  every  syllable  of  each  word  throughout 
the  line  or  sentence  clearly  and  exactly ;  3d,  pronounce  ev- 
ery word  in  the  same  style ;  4th,  read  the  line  or  sentence 
from  the  beginning  forward,  with  strict  attention  to  the 
manner  of  pronouncing  every  word;  5th,  read  the  whole 
line  or  sentence  with  an  easy,  fluent  enunciation,  paying 
strict  attention  to  the  expression  of  the  meaning,  but  with- 
out losing  correctness  in  the  style  of  pronunciation." 

Pronunciation  depends  upon  the  law  of  prevailing  good 
custom,  hence  is  subject  to  changes  from  time  to  time.  Not- 
withstanding this  bar  to  a  fixed  standard  of  pronunciation, 
a  few  rules  will  be  inserted  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  pu- 
pils of  this  period.  These  rules  are  based  upon  the  "Prin- 
ciples of  Pronunciation"  found  in  Worcester's  Unabridged 
Dictionary,  and  will  not  conflict  with  those  of  Webster. 


ORTHOPHONY.  47 

Rules  for  Pronunciation.     Single  Vowel  Sounds. 

1.  A  final  voioel  in  an  accented  syllable  has  the  long  sound, 
as  in  ba-sis,  le-gal,  trl-al,  sono'-rous,  cu'-bic,  ty-rant. 

2.  In  monosyllables  ending  with  silent  e,  preceded  by  a  sin- 
gle consonant,  vowels  have  usually  the  long  sound,  as  in 
fate,  mete,  pine,  note,  tube,  type.  Exceptions  :  have,  are, 
and  bade,  the  preterit  of  bid. 

3.  In  monosyllables  not  ending  with  silent  e,  vowels  gen- 
erally take  their  short  sound,  as  in  fat,  met,  pin,  not,  tub. 

4.  In  accented  syllables  ending  with  consonants,  vowels 
usually  take  their  short  sounds,  as  in  aban'don,  attentive, 
exhibit,  laconic,  reltic'tant,  lyrical. 

A. 

5.  A,  unaccented r,  and  ending  a  word,  or  constituting  an  un- 
accented syllable  at  the  beginning  of  a  word,  has  the  sound 
of  a  in  father,  as  America,  idea.  And  ah  final  has  still 
more  of  the  Italian  sound,  as  in  Jehovah,  Messiah.  Excep- 
tions: a-or'-ta,  a-e'rial,  because  followed  by  a  vowel. 

6.  A,  followed  by/*,  s,  or  n  in  the  same  syllable,  should  re- 
ceive an  intermediate  sound  between  short  a,  as  in  man,  and 
the  Italian  a,  as  in  far.  It  is  a  sound  shorter  than  a,  as 
grass,  graft, command,  past. 

7.  A,  6,  ai,  and  sometimes  ea,  when  followed  by  r,  take  the 
sound  of  short  e,  as  in  fare,  where,  pair,  bear.  The  sound 
is  called  by  some  an  intermediate  sound  between  short  a,  as 
in  fat,  and  long  a,  as  in  ale,  but  is  really  long  a  modified  by 
the  succeeding  r,  and  equal  to  short  e. 

8.  A,  preceded  by  qu,  w,  or  toh,  takes  the  sound  of  short  o 
in  not,  as  in  quality,  swallow,  wad,  what. 

K 

E,  followed  by  I  or  n  in  an  unaccented  final  syllable,  has 
in  some  words  an  indistinct  short  sound,  and  in  some  it  is 
entirely  suppressed.  (See  page  45,  List  for  Practice.)  In 
most  words  ending  in  el  the  sound  of  e  is  given,  as  in  flan- 
nel. And  in  most  of  those  ending  in  en  the  sound  of  e  is 
suppressed,  as  in  oft-en. 


48  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

The  sound  of  the  letter  e  is  generally  suppressed  in  the 
preterits  of  verbs,  and  in  participles  ending  in  ed,  when  the 
e  is  not  preceded  by  d  or  t,  as  feared,  praised. 

Adjectives  ending  in  ed,  unless  they  are  participles  as  well 
as  adjectives,  commonly  preserve  the  sound  of  e  before  d> 
as  in  rag-ged,  na-ked.     See  Table,  page  44. 


That  class  of  words,  mostly  derived  from  the  French  and 
Italian,  which  contain  t,  retain  the  sound  of  long  e,  as  in  an- 
tique. 

In  words  wThich  terminate  in  He  or  ine,  with  the  accent  on 
the  penultimate  syllable,  the  i  in  the  final  syllable  is  gener- 
ally short,  as  in  fertile,  adamantine,  etc.  Exceptions :  ex- 
ile, Gentile,  pentile,  feline,  confine,  and  a  few  others.  Also, 
when  the  accent  is  on  the  antepenult,  words  ending  in  He 
generally  have  the  i  short,  as  juvenile,  puerile.  Exceptions : 
chamomile,  reconcile,  eo'lipile. 

Words  ending  in  ity  usually  require  the  final  i  and  y  short, 
as  ability.  Also  the  short  sound  of  e  and  y  in  the  termina- 
tion ety,  as  variety.  When  i  ends  an  initial  syllable  with- 
out accent,  and  the  succeeding  syllable  begins  with  a  con- 
sonant, the  i  is  generally  short,  as  in  civility,  divine,  finance. 
Exceptions  :  biography,  librarian,  etc.     See  List,  page  42. 

0. 

O,  in  monosyllables  ending  mf,ft,  ss,  st,  and  th,  takes  its 
short  sound  somewhat  prolonged,  as  in  off,  often,  cross,  cost, 
broth. 

In  many  words  ending  in  on  the  sound  of  o  is  suppressed, 
as  in  bacon,  pardon,  reason. 

Z7at  the  beginning  of  words,  when  long,  has  the  sound 
of  yu,  as  in  use. 

IT,  preceded  by  r  (also  tire  by  5),  has  the  sound  of  0  in  do, 
as  in  true,  sure. 

VandenhofF,  in  "  Art  of  Elocution,"  gives  a  more  definite 
rule,  as  follows :  U  has  the  sound  ofiew  in  view  in  the  sylla- 


ORTHOPHONY.  49 

bles  and  terminations  ue,  ui%  ude,  uce,  use,  itke,  ume,  une,  ure 
(accented),  teal,  ular,  unar,  and  uble.  When  any  of  the 
above  combinations  are  compounded  with  r,  or  s  with  ure, 
u  has  the  sound  of  o  in  do.     See  List,  page  44. 

T. 

Yat  the  end  of  a  word,  preceded  by  a  consonant,  has  the 
sound  of  short  i,  as  in  pity.  The  exceptions  are  monosyl- 
lables, as  by,  cry,  etc. 

Hides  for  Pronunciation.     Improper  Diphthongs. 

JE  is  a  Latin  diphthong,  and  is  always  pronounced  like  e 
in  Latin.  In  English  it  is  used  only  in  words  of  Latin  ori- 
gin or  formation,  as  aqua-vitae,  minutiae,  aesthetics,  and  com- 
monly has  the  long  sound,  as  in  paean,  but  is  sometimes 
short,  as  in  Daedalus. 

Ai  has  usually  the  sound  of  long  a,  as  in  pail,  pain,  but 
has  the  sound  of  short  e  in  said,  saith,  again,  and  against ; 
that  of  short  a  in  plaid  and  raillery ;  that  of  long  i  in  aisle ; 
and,  in  final  unaccented  syllables,  it  has  the  sound  of  indis- 
tinct short  i,  as  in  mountain,  curtain,  etc. 

Ao  occurs  only  in  the  word  gaol,  pronounced,  as  it  is  now 
more  frequently  written,  jail. 

Aw  has  the  sound  of  broad  a ;  bawl  and  ball  being  pro- 
nounced exactly  alike. 

Ay  has  the  sound  of  long  a,  as  in  pay,  jay,  hay,  etc. ; 
except  in  quay,  which  is  pronounced  he.  It  has  the  short 
sound  of  e  in  says,  and  that  of  short  i  in  Sunday,  Monday. 

Ea  has  the  sound  of  long  e,  as  in  beat,  hear ;  of  short  e, 
as  in  head,  lead ;  of  short  and  obtuse  e,  as  in  earn,  heard, 
pearl ;  of  long  a,  as  in  break ;  of  broad  a,  as  in  heart,  hearth  ; 
and,  when  unaccented,  it  has  an  obscure  sound,  as  in  venge- 
ance. 

Eau  is  only  used  in  words  derived  from  the  French,  and 
its  regular  sound  is  that  of  long  o,  as  in  beau  and  bureau. 
It  has  the  sound  of  long  u  in  beauty. 

Ee  has  almost  invariably  the  sound  of  long  e  ;  the  princi- 
pal exceptions  are  been  and  breeches,  having  the  short  sound 
of  i.     The  poetical   contractions  e'er  and  ne'er,  for  ever 

C 


50  MANUAL   OF    READING. 

and  never,  are  pronounced  with  the  short  sourid  of  6,  as  er, 
ner. 

EL  This  diphthong  has  usually  the  sound  of  long  a  or  ey 
as  in  neighbor,  ceiling,  etc.  (See  page  Y.)  It  has  the  sound 
of  long  i,  as  in  heighten ;  of  short  e,  as  in  heifer;  and  in  an 
unaccented  syllable,  the  indistinct  sound  of  i,  as  in  foreign. 

Eo  has  the  sound  of  long  o,  as  in  yeoman ;  like  long  e,  as 
in  people ;  like  short  e,  as  in  jeopardy ;  like  broad  o  (as  in 
nor),  as  in  Georgic;  like  long  w,  as  in  feod  (now  written 
feud) ;  and  when  unaccented,  it  has  the  indistinct  sound  of 
i  or  o,  as  in  pigeon. 

Eu  has  the  sound  of  long  «,  as  in  feud,  deuce. 

Ew  has  the  sound  of  long  u,  as  in  few,  new ;  but  if  r  pre- 
cedes it,  it  takes  the  sound  of  o  (as  in  do),  as  in  brew,  drew  ; 
and  the  sound  of  long  o,  as  in  sew,  shew,  strew.  See  U, 
page  48. 

Ey  has  the  sound  of  long  a  in  bey,  grey ;  of  long  e  in  key, 
ley;  and  when  unaccented  and  final,  it  has  the  sound  of 
short  it  as  in  valley. 

la,  in  the  terminations  ial,  ian,  iard,  often  forms  but  one 
syllable,  the  i  being  sounded  like  the  consonant  y,  as  in 
filial,  Christian,  poniard  ;  pronounced  as  if  written  filyal, 
Christyan,  etc.  In  some  words  it  has  the  obscure  sound  of 
indistinct  short  i,  as  in  carriage,  marriage. 

le,  io,  ieu,  iew.  The  regular  sound  of  ie  is  that  of  long  6, 
as  in  chief.  It  has  the  sound  of  long  i  in  die,  lie ;  and  the 
sound  of  short  e  in  friend.  When  t,  in  the  termination  ion, 
is  preceded  by  a  liquid,  it  has  the  sound  of  yun,  as  in  mil- 
lion and  minion.  The  terminations  sion  and  tion  are  pro- 
nounced shun,  as  in  version,  nation.  But  when  the  t  is  pre- 
ceded by  s  or  x,  ion  is  pronounced  yun,  as  in  question  and 
mixtion.  The  triphthong  ieu  is  found  only  in  a  few  words, 
which  are  derived  from  the  French,  as  adieu,  lieu ;  and  it 
has  the  sound  of  long  u.  The  triphthong  iew  occurs  only  in 
view  and  interview. 

Oa.  The  regular  sound  of  this  diphthong  is  that  of  long 
o,  as  in  boat,  loaf;  and  the  sound  of  broad  a  in  broad  and 
abroad. 

Oe  is  derived  from  the  Latin,  and  it  is  retained  in  but  very 


ORTHOPHONY.  51 

few  words  used  in  English.  It  has  the  sound  of  short  e,  as 
in  assafoet'ida ;  and  that  of  long  e  in  oedinia,  oesoph'agus. 

Oeu.  This  triphthong  is  found  only  in  the  word  manoeu- 
vre, where  it  has  the  sound  of  o  in  do. 

Oi  and  oy  have  one  and  the  same  sound,  which  is  the 
combined  sound  of  broad  a  and  short  i  or  y,  as  in  boil,  toy. 

Oo  has  the  sound  of  o  in  do,  as  in  moon,  stoop ;  and  also  a 
shorter  sound,  like  u  in  full,  or  o  in  wolf,  as  in  good,  book, 
wood,  and  foot;  and  the  sound  of  long  o  in  door,  floor,  and 
that  of  short  u  in  blood  and  flood. 

Ou  is  the  most  irregular  diphthong  in  the  language.  Its 
most  common  or  regular  sound  is  that  in  which  both  letters 
are  heard,  as  in  bound,  sound,  cloud,  south,  etc.  It  has  the 
sound  of  short  u  in  country,  cousin,  couple,  rough,  and  young. 
It  has  the  sound  of  o  in  do,  as  in  accoutre,  group,  tour,  sur- 
tout,  uncouth,  and  other  words  derived  from  the  French. 
It  has  the  sound  of  long  o  in  court,  accourt,  and  the  sound 
of  broad  a,  as  in  ball,  or  the  sound  of  o  in  nor,  in  bought, 
brought, wrought;  the  sound  of  u  in  full,  as  in  could,  would, 
should ;  the  sound  of  short  o  in  hough. 

Ow.  The  regular  sound  of  this  diphthong  is  the  same  as 
the  regular  sound  of  on,  as  in  how,  bow,  now,  and  tower.  It 
has  the  sound  of  long  o  in  below,  blow,  glow,  owe,  and  show, 
besides  the  following  words  in  some  of  their  senses :  bow, 
low,  mow,  mower,  and  sow.  It  has  the  slight  sound  of  o 
wThen  it  forms  an  unaccented  syllable.  ■ 

Ua.  When  both  letters  of  this  diphthong  are  sounded 
they  have  the  power  of  wa,  as  in  equal,  language,  persuade, 
and  suavity.  In  some  words  the  u  is  silent,  as  in  guard, 
guardian,  guarantee,  piquant ;  and  in  victuals  and  victual- 
ing both  letters  are  silent. 

Ue.  When  these  letters  are  united  in  a  diphthong,  and 
are  both  sounded,  they  have  the  power  of  we,  as  in  conquest, 
consuetude,  and  desuetude.  In  some  words  the  u  is  silent, 
as  in  guerdon,  guess,  and  guest.  When  this  diphthong  is 
final,  the  e  in  many  words  is  silent,  as  in  due,  hue,  pursue ; 
and  in  some  words  both  letters  are  silent,  as  in  league,  fa- 
tigue, antique,  opaque,  and  oblique.  In  the  termination 
ogue,  the  o  is  short  when  preceded  by  g  or  l3  as  in  demar 


52  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

gtfgue,  dialogue,  except  collogue ;  but  when  any  other  con- 
sonant precedes  o  it  is  long,  as  in  brogue,  rogue,  and  vogue. 
Ui.  These  letters,  when  united  in  a  diphthong,  and  both 
are  sounded,  have  the  power  of  wi,  as  in  anguish,  languid, 
and  vanquish.  In  some  words  the  u  is  silent,  as  in  guide, 
guile,  build,  and  guinea ;  and  in  others  i  is  silent,  as  in  juice, 
pursuit,  and  fruit. 

Rules  for  Pronunciation,     Consonants. 

B,  preceded  by  m  in  the  same  syllable,  is  generally  silent, 
as  in  lamb,  limb,  comb,  and  dumb ;  exception,  succumb.  B 
is  also  silent  before  t  in  the  same  syllable,  as  in  debt  and 
doubt. 

C  is  hard,  and  sounds  like  k  before  a,  o,  and  u  ;  and  it  is 
soft,  and  sounds  like  s  before  e,  i%  and  y,  except  in  sceptre  and 
scirrhus,  with  their  derivatives,  in  which  c  sounds  like  k. 
In  the  word  indict  and  its  derivatives  c  is  silent.  When  c 
comes  after  the  accent,  and  is  followed  by  ea,  ia,  to,  or  eous, 
it  takes,  like  s  and  t  under  the  same  circumstances,  the  sound 
of  sh,  as  in  social,  ocean,  tenacious,  and  cetaceous.  In  the 
words  discern,  sacrifice,  and  suffice,  and  in  several  words 
derived  from  them,  also  in  the  word  sice,  c  has  the  sound 
of  z. 

D  takes  the  sound  of  t  in  some  words  ending  in  ed,  as  in 
distressed,  mixed,  fixed,  etc.,  pronounced  distrest,  mixt,  and 
fixt. 

jFhas  always  the  same  sound,  except  in  the  preposition 
of,  in  which  it  has  the  sound  of  v. 

G  is  hard  before  a,  o,  and  u.  The  only  exception  is  goal, 
which  is  commonly  written  jail.  When  g  is  followed  by  n 
at  the  beginning  of  a  word  it  is  silent,  as  in  gnarl,  gnash, 
gnomon.  It  is  also  silent  when  followed  by  n  at  the  end  of 
a  word :  arraign,  assign.  G  is  sometimes  hard  and  some- 
times soft  before  e,  i,  and  y.  It  is  hard  before  e,  as  in  geese, 
get,  dagger ;  before  i  in  gibber,  gift,  girl,  gimp ;  before  y  in 
baggy,  cloggy. 

His  always  silent  after  r,  as  in  rheum,  rhetoric,  rhapsody. 

-ZTis  always  silent  before  n,  as  in  knee,  know. 

M  is  never  silent  except  in  accompt,  comptroller,  pro- 


ORTHOPHONY.  53 

nounced,  and  also  more  commonly  written,  account,  control- 
ler. 

iVlias  the  sound  of  ng  before  7c,  c,  g  hard,  qu,  or  x,  as  in 
thank,  zinc,  anger,  banquet,  and  anxious.  It  is  mute  when 
it  ends  a  syllable  and  is  preceded  by  I  or  m,  as  in  kiln,  hymn, 
column,  and  autumn. 

P  is  silent  before  s  and  t  at  the  beginning  of  words,  as  in 
psalter,  psalm. 

Q  is  always  followed  by  a,  and  qu  has  the  sound  of  kw,  as 
in  queen,  quill.  In  many  words  derived  from  the  French  it 
has  the  sound  of  7c,  as  in  etiquette,  mosque,  liquor. 

S  has  always  its  sharp  or  hissing  sound  at  the  beginning 
of  words,  as  in  son,  safe ;  also  at  the  end  of  words  when 
they  terminate  in  as,  except  the  words  as,  has>  was,  where- 
as, and  the  plural  of  nouns  ending  in  ea,  as  seas,  pleas.  It 
is  soft  in  all  words  ending  in  ss,  as  less,  express ;  in  words 
ending  in  is,  except  the  monosyllables  is  and  his;  in  all 
words  ending  in  as  and  ous,  as  genius,  famous ;  in  all  words 
when  s  is  preceded  by  either  of  the  mutes  7c,  p,  t,  or  by/,  as 
locks,  caps,  hats,  muffs.  S  final  has  the  sound  of  z  when  it 
immediately  follows  any  consonant  except  the  mutes  7c, p,  t, 
the  semivowel  f  and  th  aspirated,  as  in  ribs,  heads  ;  also 
when  it  forms  an  additional  syllable  with  e  before  it ;  in  the 
plural  of  nouns,  and  the  third  person  singular  of  verbs  end- 
ing in  se,  to  distinguish  them  from  nouns  and  adjectives  of 
the  same  form,  as  use,  abuse,  close,  diffuse.  S  takes  the 
sound  of  sh  in  words  ending  in  sion  preceded  by  a  conso- 
nant, as  in  diversion ;  also  in  a  few  other  words :  sugar,  su- 
mach, fissure,  censure,  seisure,  sure,  insure,  pressure,  sensual, 
nauseate,  and  tissue.  #has  the  sound  of  zh  in  the  termina- 
tion sion  preceded  by  a  vowel,  as  in  cohesion,  evasion,  and 
explosion. 

1\  like  s  and  c,  is  aspirated  when  it  comes  immediately 
after  an  accent,  and  is  followed  by  the  vowels  ai,  ie,  or  io, 
taking  the  sound,  in  these  cases,  of  sh,  as  in  partial,  patient, 
nation,  militia,  and  negotiate. 

IF  is  always  silent  before  r,  as  in  write,  wren,  and  wrist. 

JXThas  the  sound  of  Tcs  usually,  as  in  excellent,  expect,  tax ; 
also  the  sound  of  gz  when  the  next  syllable  following  begins 


54  MANUAL   OF  BEADING. 

with  an  accented  vowel,  as  in  exalt,  exert.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  words  it  has  the  sound  of  z,  as  in  Xenophon,  Xerxes. 
-STalso  takes  the  sound  of  Jcsh  in  some  words  when  the  ac- 
cent immediately  precedes  it,  as  in  fluxion,  anxious,  luxury, 
complexion. 

Ch,  preceded  by  I  or  n,  has  the  sound  of  sh  (some  authors 
say  ch,  as  in  rich),  as  belch,  filch.  Ch  has  the  sound  of  h  in 
words  derived  from  the  ancient  language,  as  in  alchemy,  an- 
archy, and  anchor.  Exceptions  are  charity,  chart,  charter. 
Ch  is  hard  in  all  words  in  which  it  is  followed  by  I  or  r, 
as  Christian,  chlorosis.  When  arch,  signifying  chief,  begins 
a  word  from  the  Greek  language,  and  is  followed  by  a  vow- 
el, it  is  pronounced  ark,  as  in  archangel,  architect ;  but  when 
arch  is  prefixed  to  an  English  word,  it  is  pronounced  to 
rhyme  with  marcli.  Ch  is  silent  in  drachm,  schism,  and 
yacht. 

Gh.  At  the  beginning  of  a  word  h  is  silent,  as  in  ghost, 
ghastly,  gherkin.  In  bough,  h  is  silent  at  the  end  of  a  word. 
Gh  is  commonly  silent  at  the  end  of  words,  as  in  high,  sigh, 
and  weigh.  In  some  words  it  has  the  sound  of/*,  as  in  tough, 
laugh ;  and  in  some  the  sound  of  Jc,  as  in  hough,  shough.  In 
clough  and  slough  it  is»sometimes  silent,  and  sometimes  has 
the  sound  of/1  The  combination  of  letters  ough  has  no  less 
than  seven  different  sounds,  which  are  exhibited  in  the  fol- 
lowing lines : 

"  'Tis  not  an  easy  task  to  show 
How  ough  sound :  since,  though 
An  Irish  lough  and  English  slough, 
And  cough  and  hiccough,  all  allow, 
Differ  as  much  as  bough  and  through, 
There  seems  no  reason  why  they  do." 

Ght.  In  this  termination  the  letters  gh  are  always  silent, 
as  in  fight,  height ;  except  in  draught,  which  is  pronounced, 
and  in  some  of  its  senses  written,  draft. 

Ph  has  generally  the  sound  of/*,  as  in  philosophy.  In 
nephew  (according  to  the  principal  English  orthoepists)  and 
in  Stephen  it  has  the  sound  of  v,  and  in  the  triphthong  naph- 
tha, etc.,  the  h  is  silent  (nap'tha  or  naf  'tha). 

Th  at  the  beginning  of  words  is  generally  sharp,  as 


ORTHOPHONY.  55 

in  thin,  think  (see  page  35,  List  for  Lispers),  and  also  at 
the  end  of  words,  as  in  death,  breath.  In  some  nouns  it  is 
sharp  in  the  singular  and  flat  in  the  plural,  as  in  bath,  baths, 
lath,  laths.  In  some  words  the  h  is  silent,  as  in  Thomas, 
thyme. 
Wh.     In  some  words  the  w  is  silent,  as  in  who,  whole. 


READING  EXERCISES. 
ARTICULATION  AND   PRONUNCIATION. 

1.  It  was  indubitably  an  abominable  eccentricity. 

2.  Up  a  high  hill  he  heaved  a  huge  round  stone. 

3.  The  glassy  gla/ciers  gleamed  in  glowing  light. 

4.  The  invin'cible  duplic'ity  of  inquisitive  men. 

5.  The  listlessness  and  la'ziness  of  the  friv'oloiis. 

6.  Ev'ery  government  has  its  his'tory. 

7.  The  elements  of  our  language  include  con'sonants. 

8.  Counselors  should  be  particularly  supe'rior. 

9.  Round  and  round  the  rugged  rocks  the  ragged  rascal 
ran. 

10.  The  stripling  stranger  strayed  straight  toward  the 
struggling  stream. 

11.  The  incomprehensibirity  of  the  ar'ticle,  etymolog'ical- 
ly  considered,  is  evident. 

12.  It  was  a  family  opinion  majes'tically  expressed. 

13.  The  manifestations  of  force  are  visible,  reliable,  and 
reasonable. 

14.  A  big  black  bug  bit  a  big  black  bear. 

15.  Socks  and  shoes  shock  Susan.     {Repeat.) 

16.  Truly  rural,  truly  rural  rationalist. 

1 7.  Feb'ruary  and  June,  February  and  June. 

18.  {Quick.)  Peter  Prangle,  the  prickly  prangly  pear-pick- 
er, picked  three  pecks  of  prickly  prangly  pears  from  the 
prangly  pear-trees  on  the  pleasant  prairies. 

19.  "Amidst  the  mists,  with  angry  boasts, 

He  thrusts  his  fists  against  the  posts, 
And  still  insists  he  sees  the  ghosts." 

20.  The  vile  vag'abond  ven'tured  to  vilify  the  ven'erable 
vet'eran. 


56  MANUAL   OF  BEADING. 

21.  (Quick.)  Theoph'ttiis  Thistle,  the  successful  thistle-sift- 
er, in  sifting  a  sieve  full  of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  three 
thousand  thistles  through  the  thick  of  his  thumb.  ISTow,  if 
Theoph/ilus  Thistle,  the  successful  thistle-sifter,  in  sifting  a 
sieve  full  of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  three  thousand  thistles 
through  the  thick  of  his  thumb,  see  that  thou,  in  sifting  a 
sieve  full  of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  not  three  thousand 
thistles  through  the  thick  of  thy  thumb.  Success  to  the 
successful  thistle-sifter. 

22.  Masses  of  immense  magnitude  move  majestically 
through  the  vast  empire  of  the  solar  system. 

23.  She  uttered  a  sharp,  shrill  shriek,  and  shrunk  from  the 
enshrouded  shrine. 

24.  The  miserable  accom'paniment  is  unnecessary  and 
intol'erable. 

QUALITIES   OF  VOICE. 

2.  Pure  Tone. 

"  I  love  my  country's  pine-clad  hills, 
Her  thousand  bright  and  gushing  rills, 

Her  sunshine  and  her  storms  ; 
Her  rough  and  rugged  vocks,  that  rear 
Their  hoary  heads  high  m  the  air 

In  wild  fantastic  forms. " 

2.  Orotund. 

11  'Drink,'  said  the  demon,  c  drink  your  fill ; 

Drink  of  these  waters  mellow ; 
They'll  make  your  eyeballs  sear  and  dull, 

And  turn  your  white  skins  yellow ; 
They'll  fill  your  homes  with  care  and  grief, 

And  clothe  your  backs  with  tatters ; 
They'll  fill  your  hearts  with  evil  thoughts — 

But,  never  mind,  what  matters  ?'  " — Mac#ay. 

3.  Pectoral. 

"  The  skies  they  were  ashen  and  sober, 
The  leaves  they  were  crisped  and  sear, 
The  leaves  they  were  withering  and  sear. 

It  was  night  in  the  lonesome  October 
(Of  my  most  immemorial  year), 

It  was  hard  by  the  dim  lake  of  Auber, 
In  the  misty  mid-region  of  Wier — 

It  was  down  by  the  dank  tarn  of  Auber, 

In  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Wier. "— Poa. 


ORTHOPHONY.  57 

4.  Guttural 

"Thou  slave,  wretch,  coward." 

"  I'll  strip  you  of  your  commission ; 
I'll  lodge  a  five-and-threepence  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  and  you 

shall  live  on  the  interest. 
I'll  disown  you ;  I'll  disinherit  you ;  and  hang  me  if  ever  I  call  you 
Jack  again  while  I  live." — Sheridan. 

5.  Aspirate. 

"  'Twere  better  by  far 
To  have  matched  our  fair  cousin  with  young  Lochinvar." — Scott. 
"Or  whispering  with  white  lips, 
The  foe — they  come — they  come !" — Byron. 


6.  Nasal 


"  '  The  birds  can  fly, 
An'  why  can't  I  ? 
Must  we  give  in, ' 
Says  he,  with  a  grin, 
*  That  the  blue-bird  an'  phcebe 
Are  smarter  'n  we  be  ? 
Jest  fold  our  hands,  an'  see  the  swaller 
An'  blackbird  an'  catbird  beat  us  holler  ?'  " — Trowbridgh. 


7.  Oral 


•    "  She  *  perfectly  scorned  the  best  of  his  clan, 
And  reckoned  the  ninth  of  any  man 

An  exceedingly  vulgar  fraction.' 
He  '  quite  regretted  the  step,  'twas  true — 
The  lady  had  pride  enough  for  two ; 
But  that  alone  would  never  do 

To  quiet  the  butcher  and  baker. '  " — Saxe. 

8.  Falsetto. 

"  Do,  good  people,  move  on ;  such  a  rabble  of  boys ! 
I'll  break  every  bone  of  'em  I  come  near ; 
Go  home — you're  spilling  the  porter — 

Go  home,  Tommy  Jones,  go  along  with  your  beer. 
This  is  the  sorrowfulest  day  of  my  life, 

Ever  since  my  name  was  Betty  Morgan." — Hood. 

Note. — To  overcome  a  monotonous  habit  of  delivery,  read  alternate  linei 
of  a  poem  in  the  pure  tone,  contrasted  with  another  quality  of  voice,  as  the 
pure  with  the  orotund,  the  pure  with  the  aspirate  or  nasal.  For  persona- 
tion, give  each  character  in  a  dialogue  or  drama  a  particular  quality  of 
Voice  as  his  own. 

C2 


58  MANUAL   OP  READING. 


PITCH. 

Scale  Exercise. 
do.  O  High  worth  is  elevated  place, 
si.  O  High  worth  is  elevated  place, 
la.  O  High  worth  is  elevated  place, 
sol.  O  High  worth  is  elevated  place, 
fa.  O  High  worth  is  elevated  place, 
mi.  O  High  worth  is  elevated  place, 
re.  O  High  worth  is  elevated  place, 
do.  O  High  worth  is  elevated  place. 

Note. — Repeat  each  note  of  the  scale  four  times,  begin- 
ning with  the  lowest :  Do,  do,  do,  do,  re,  re,  re,  re,  etc.  -.When 
the  octave  has  been  completed,  reverse  the  exercises,  and 
repeat  them,  beginning  with  the  highest  note  of  the  scale. 
Next  repeat  the  sentence  in  each  of  the  keys  from  the  low- 
est to  the  highest,  and  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  re- 
membering to  keep  the  reading  voice. 

Heading  upon  the  Scale  in  Lines. 

"  Like  to  the  falling  of  a  star, 
Or  as  the  flights  of  eagles  are ; 
Or  like  the  fresh  Spring's  gaudy  hue, 
Or  silver  drops  of  morning  dew ; 
Or  like  a  wind  that  chafes  the  flood, 
Or  bubbles  which  on  water  stood — 
E'en  such  is  man,  whose  borrowed  light 
Is  straight  called  in  and  paid  to-night : 
The  wind  blows  oat,  the  bubble  dies ; 
The  Spring  entombed  in  Autumn  lies ; 
The  dew  dries  up,  the  star  is  shot, 
The  flight  is  past,  and  man  forgot." — King. 

Note. — Begin  with  the  lowest  note  of  the  voice,  and  read 
each  line  one  note  higher  than  the  one  before,  until  you 
reach  that  point  in  your  voice  where  it  is  said  to  "  break" 
or  change  to  the  falsetto.  You  may  not  be  able  to  reach  an 
octave  at  first,  but  after  a  few  weeks'  steady,  careful  prac- 
tice you  will  probably  be  able  to  read  upon  any  key  within 
the  compass  of  an  octave  and  a  half. 

Reverse  this  exercise,  and  read  down  from  the  highest  to 


ORTHOPHONY.  59 

the  lowest  note  of  the  voice.     Fifteen  minutes'  practice, 
without  i:est,  is  enough. 

Reading  upon  the  Scale  in  Syllables. 

"  Then  fear  not,  doubt  not,  which  thou  wilt, 
We'll  try  this  quarrel  hilt  to  hilt." 

Note. — Practice  this,  or  any  other  couplet  of  monosylla* 
bles,  raising  the  pitch  one  note  on  every  syllable.  Reverse, 
and  read  down  the  scale.     See  Table  10. 

Monotone. 

1.  "O  thou  that  rollest  above,  round  as  the  shield  of  my 
fathers !  whence  are  thy  beams,  O  sun !  thy  everlasting 
light  ?"— Ossian. 

2.  "  High  on  a  throne  of  royal  state,  which  far 

Outshone  the  wealth  of  Ormus  or  of  Ind, 
Or  where  the  gorgeous  East,  with  richest  hand, 
Showers  on  her  kings  barbaric  pearls  and  gold,  *  , 
Satan  exalted  sat!" — Milton. 

3.  Wisdom  {Job  xxviii.,  12)  is  also  a  fine  example  of  the 
monotone. 

Drifting ,  full  Rising  and  Falling  Inflections. 

"He  never  dines  with  comfort,  |  but  wheee  he  is  sure  to 
create  a  famine  ;  |  he  never  robs  from  the  loose  superfluity 
of  standing  greatness  ;  |  he  devours  the  fallen,  the  indi- 
gent, the  necessitous  ;  |  his  extortion  is  not  like  the  gener 
ous  rapacity  of  the  princely  eagle,  who  snatches  away  the 
living,  struggling  prey;  |  he  is  a  vulture  who  feeds  upon 
the  prostrate,  the  dying,  and  the  dead." 

Note. — Read  this  example* with  a  strong  rising  inflection 
on  the  words  in  italic,  and  a  full  falling  inflection  on  the 
words  in  small  capitals,  as  an  exercise  in  sweeping  inflec- 
tions of  a  fifth  or  an  octave. 

Words  in  Antithesis  take  opposite  Inflections. 

1.  u  I  said  an  elder  soldier\  not  a  better'." 

2.  "It  is  soic?i  in  weakness' ;  it  is  raised  in  powers.  It  is 
soicn  a  natural  body';  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  bodyV 


60  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

3.  "  I  come  to  buryy  Caesar,  not  to  praise'  him." 

4.  "  The  kings  was  without  power',  and  the  nobles'  with- 
out principle".  They  were  tyrants^  at  home',  and  robbers' 
abroad\" 

5.  "  We  live  in  deeds,  not  years — in  thoughts,  not  breath — 
in  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial.  We  should  count  time 
by  heart-throbs.     He  most  lives  who  thinks  the  most — 

FEELS  THE  NOBLEST — ACTS  THE  BEST." 

6.  "  You  have  done  the  mischief,  and  I  bear  the  blame." 

7.  "  The  wise  man  is  happy  when  he  gains  his  own  appro- 
bation; the  fool  when  he  gains  that  of  others* 

Words  in  Apposition  take  the  same  Infection. 

1.  u  Oh  comrades'!  warriors"!  Thracians" !  if  we  must 
fight,  let  us  fight  for  ourselves  !  If  we  must  slaughter,  let 
us  slaughter  our  oppressors." 

2.  Thomas  Moore',  the  poet',  was  born  in  Dublin  in  1780. 

Climax. 

1.  "If  I  were  an  American,  while  a  foreign  troop  were 
landed  in  my  country,  I  never  would  lay  down  my  arms — 
NEVER,  never,  never!" — Earl  of  Chatham. 

2.  "  In  a  clamorous  appealing  to  the  mercy  of  the  fire, 

In  a  mad  expostulation  with  the  deaf  and  frantic  fire. " — Poe. 

3.  "  Clarence  has  come  !  false  !  fleeting  !  PERJURED 
Clarence  /" 

Irony. 
"  Oh  excellent  interpreter  of  the  laws !  master  of  antiqui- 
ty !  corrector  and  amender  of  our  Constitution  !" — Cicero. 

Compound  Inflection. 

"I  knew  when  seven  justices  could  not  make  up  a  quarrel; 
but  when  the  parties  met  themselves,  one  of  them  thought 
but  of  an  if;  as, '  If  you  said  so,  then  I  said  so.'  *  Oh  ho !  did 
you  say  so  ?'  So  they  shook  hands  and  were  sworn  broth- 
ers." 

"Must  I  budge ;  must  I  observe  you ; 
Must  I  stand  and  crouch  under  your  testy  humor?" 


ORTHOPHONY.  6 1 


FORCE. 

Rhythmical  Accent, 

"Pause'  not  to  dream'  of  the  fu'ture  before'  us, 
Pause'  not  to  weep'  the  wild  cares'  that  come  o'er'  ug : 
Hark'  how  Crea'tion's  deep  mu'sical  chorus 

Un'intermitting  goes  up'  into  heav'en ! 
Nev'er  the  o'cean-wave  stops'  in  its  flow'ing ; 
Nev'er  the  lit'tle  seed  stops'  in  its  grow'ing  ; 
More'  and  more  rich'ly  the  rose'-heart  keeps  glow'ing 

Till'  from  its  nourishing  stem'  it  is  riven." — Osgood. 

Absolute  Emphasis, 

1.  "What  destiny  sends, bear." — Herder. 

2.  "There  is  nothing  more  fearful  than  imagination  with- 
out taste." — Goethe. 

Antithetic  Emphasis, 

1.  "Be  noble-minded!     Our  own  hearty  and  not  other 
men's  opinions  of  us,  forms  our  true  honor." — Schiller. 

2.  "  What  makes  old  age  so  sad  is  not  that  our  joys,  but 
that  our  hopes  cease." — Richter. 

Emphasis  of  Emotion, 

1.  "  Stand  !  the  ground's  your  own,  my  braves — 

Will  ye  give  it  up  to  slaves  ? 
Will  ye  look  for  greener  graves  ? 

Hope  ye  mercy  still  ? 
What's  the  mercy  despots  feel  ? 
Hear  it  in  that  battle-peal — 
Read  it  on  yon  bristling  steel — 

Ask  it — ye  who  will!" — Pierpont. 

2.  "  Up,  comrades,  up  !  in  Rokeby's  halls 

Ne'er  be  it  said  our  courage  falls !" 

3.  "  *  Hold  !'  tyranny  cries ;  but  their  resolute  breath 

Sends  back  the  reply,  *  Independence  or  death  I' " 

Cumulative  Emphasis, 

1.  "The  Union— it  must  and  shall  be  PRESERVED." 

2.  "  Heaven  for  Harry,  England,  and  St.  George  !" 

3.  "  Charge  Chester,  charge  !     02ST,  Stanley,  ON  1" 


62  MANUAL    OF   HEADING. 


STRESS. 

1.  Radical  Stress. 

"  Hence,  horrible  shadow ! 
Unreal  mockery,  hence!" 

2.  Final  Stress. 

"  Too  much  horrified  to  speak, 
They  can  only  shriek — shriek." 
"  What !  you  threaten  us  ?    Do  your  worst ; 
•      Blow  your  pipe,  there,  till  you  burst." 

3.  Median  Stress. 

"  Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean,  roll.  9 

/)     "  The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low, 

And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered  (>)  '  No.'  " 
"The  loud  waves,  rolling  in  perpetual  flow, 
Stopped  for  a  while,  and  sighed  for  answer  {dim.  in  swells)  i  No !' 

4.  Thorough  Stress. 

"Flash'd  all  their  sabres  bare, 
Flash'd  as  they  turned  in  air, 
Sabring  the  gunners  there, 
Charging  an  army,  while 

All  the  world  wonder'd : 
Plunged  in  the  battery-smoke, 
Right  through  the  line  they  broke ; 
Cossack  and  Russian 
Reeled  from  the  sabre-stroke 

Shattered  and  sundered. 
Then  they  rode  back,  but  not, 

Not  the  six  hundred." 

5.  Compound  Stress. 

"Gone  to  be  married !  gone  to  swear  a  peace ! 
False  blood  to  false  blood  joined !  gone  to  be  friends ! 
Shall  Louis  have  Blanche,  and  Blanche  these  provinces  ?" 

6.  Tremor. 

"If  they  should  fire  on  Pickens,  let  the  colonel  in  command 
Place  me  upon  the  ramparts,  with  the  flag-staff  in  my  hand. 
No  odds  how  hot  the  cannon-smoke,  or  how  the  shells  may  fly, 
I'll  hold  the  stars  and  stripes  aloft,  and  hold  them  till  I  die.    „ 
I'm  ready,  general,  so  you  let  a  post  to  me  be  given 
Where  Washington  can  see  me  as  he  looks  from  highest  heaven, 
And  say  to  Putnam  at  his  side,  or  may  be  General  Wayne, 
'  There  stands  old  Billy  Johnson,  that  fought  at  Lundy's  Lane.' " 


OliTHOPHCXNY.  63 


1.  Fast. 

"Away !  away !  our  fires  stream  bright 
Along  the  frozen  river, 
And  their  arrowy  sparkles  of  brilliant  light 
On  the  forest  branches  quiver. " 
(R'f  1         ("There  was  racing  and  chasing  on  CannobieLea, 
*■  t    But  the  lost  bride  of  Netherby  ne'er  did  we  see." 

2.  Moderate. 

"Oh,  sweet  and  beautiful  is  night, 

When  the  silver  moon  is  high, 
And  countless  stars  like  clustering  gems 

Hang  sparkling  in  the  skies ; 
While  the  balmy  breath  of  the  summer  breeze 

Comes  whispering  down  the  glen, 
And  one  fond  voice  alone  is  heard — 

Oh!  night  is  lovely  then." 

3.  Slow. 

"He  is  gone  on  the  mountain,  he  is  lost  to  the  forest, 
Like  a  summer-dried  fountain,  when  our  need  was  the  sorwt; 
The  fount,  reappearing,  from  the  rain-drops  shall  borrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering,  to  Duncan  no  morrow. 
The  hand  of  the  reaper  takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 
But  the  voice  of  the  weeper  wails  manhood  in  glory ; 
The  autumn  winds,  rushing,  waft  the  leaves  that  are  serest, 
But  our  flower  was  in  flushing  when  blighting  was  nearest. 
Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain,  like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain,  thou  art  gone,  and  forever."    . 

Long  Pause. 

Pause  a  moment.  (5)  I  heard  a  footstep.  (6)  Listen  now. 
(10)  I  heard  it  again,  (4)  but  it  is  going  from  us.  (4)  It 
sounds  fainter,  (8)  still  fainter,  (2)  it  is  gone. 

I  Short  Pause. 

John,  be  quick,  (l)  Get  some  water.  (1)  Throw  the  pow- 
der overboard.  (3)  "It  can  not  be  reached."  (1)  Jump  into 
the  boat,  then.  (1)  Shove  off.  (l)  There  goes  the  powder.  (1) 
Thank  heaven !  we  are  safe. 

Note. — The  figures  denote  the  number  to  count  at  each 
pause. 


64 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


Origin. 

Adagio, 
Largo, 
Andante, 
Presto, 


MODULATION. 

Abbreviated  Sig7is  for  marking  Sentences, 

Sign. 


Sign.  Meaning. 

ad.,  or  v.  si.,  very  slow, 
lar.,  or  si.,     slow. 


adt., 
prs.,  or  q., 


middle  time. 
%quick. 


Prestissimo,   prss.,or  v.q.,  very  quick. 


Accelerando,  ace, 


Ritard, 

Pianissimo, 

Piano, 

Mezzo, 

Forte, 

Fortissimo, 


nt., 
PP., 
P-, 
mz., 


quickening. 

slackening. 

very  soft. 

soft. 

moderate. 

loud. 

very  loud. 


Origin. 

Crescendo,      < 

Diminuendo,  > 

l.,or(0), 
md.,  or  (o), 
h.,  or  (°), 
tr.,  or  -^n*, 
pi., 
asp., 

fts.,  or  af., 
brl.,  or  br., 
frs.,  or  fr., 


Affetuoso, 
Brillante, 
Furioso, 
Spirituoso, 


Meaning. 

incrVg  force.* 

dimin'g  force.* 

low. 

middle. 

high. 

tremulously. 

plaintively. 

aspirate. 

affectionately. 

brilliantly,  gay. 

fiercely,  mad. 


spt.,  or  sp.,  spirited. 
(Slow.)       "At  length,  o'er  Columbus  slow  consciousness  breaks — 
(Loud  and  ('Land!  land!'  (Moderate)  cry  the  sailors;  (Loud)  'land! 

High.)     \  land  !'— he  awakes— 

(Fast.)  He  runs— yes !  behold  it !  it  blesseth  his  sight ! 

(Spirited.)     The  land!  Oh  dear  spectacle/  transport!  delight!" 
r       \  ("  Soft  is  the  strain  when  zephyr  gently  blows, 

1    And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows ; 
,  „  n     <    But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore, 

1    The  hoarse,  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar." 
(Slow  )  /"When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 

(    The  line,  too,  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow ; 
(Fast  *)  $    ^ot  so  wnen  sw*ft  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 

(    Flies  o'er  the  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main." 

POPB. 

{"Go  ring  the  bells  and  fire  the  guns, 
And  fling  the  starry  banner  out ; 
Shout  'Freedom'  till  your  lisping  ones 
Give  back  the  cradle  shout." — Whittier. 


(Slow.) 
(Moderate.) 
(Low  and  Soft.) 
{Very  Soft.) 
(» 


(Slow.) 

1  (Soft.) 

(Low.) 

(Low  8f  Loud.) 
(High  SrLoud.) 
(Moderate.) 


Through  glades  and  glooms  the  mingled  measure  stole, 
Or  o'er  some  haunted  stream,  with  fond  delay 
(Round  .a  holy  calm  diffusing, 
Love  of  peace  and  lonely  musing), 
In  hollow  murmurs  died  away. " 

He  said,  and  on  the  rampart  heights  arrayed 

His  trusty  warriors,  few,  but  undismayed ; 

Firm-paced  and  slow,  a  horrid  front  they  form, 

Still  as  the  breeze,  (Loud)  but  dreadful  as  the  storm ! 

Low  murmuring  sounds  along  their  banners  fly, 

'  Revenge,  or  Death  !' — the  watchword  and  reply ; 

Then  pealed  the  notes  omnipotent  to  charm, 

And  the  loud  tocsin  tolled  their  last  alarm!" — Campbell. 

*  These  signs,  when  placed  before  a  line,  apply  to  the  entire  line. 


PAET   II. 
CLASS   METHODS. 

PRIMARY  READING. 

Primary  reading  may  be  taught  analytically,  by  begin- 
ning with  words,  and  concluding  with  their  component  ele- 
ments (sounds  and  letters),  or  synthetically,  by  beginning 
with  the  elements  (sounds  and  letters),  and  concluding  with 
words  and  sentences. 

In  these  methods  the  teacher  will  need  a  blackboard,  and 
a  greater  or  less  number  of  the  following  articles,  viz.,  real- 
objects,  picture -objects,  word-objects,  slates,  cards,  charts, 
and  books,  according  to  the  method  employed.  The  black- 
board is  indispensable  in  any  method,  and  if  used,  each  pu- 
pil in  the  class  should  have  a  slate,  with  a  pencil  and  bit  of 
sponge  attached.  In  ungraded  schools,  the  slates  serve  to 
occupy  and  amuse  the  small  children  while  the  teacher  is 
engaged  with  older  classes.  They  can,  in  the  time  thus 
occupied,  learn  to  print,  write,  draw  simple  objects,  or  very 
profitably  occupy  their  time  in  inventive  drawing. 

The  real  object  employed  must  correspond  with  the  pic- 
ture and  word  objects  selected  for  the  lesson.  The  picture- 
objects  will  be  found  in  primers,  cards,  and  various  books, 
and  all  should  be  fair  representations  of  the  objects  whose 
'  corresponding  words  are  to  be  learned.  The  word-objects 
should  at  first  consist  of  two  or  three  letters  only,  none  of 
which  should  be  silent,  and  should  be  such  words  as  are  ca- 
pable of  representation  or  demonstration,  as  bat,  cat,  hat, 
up,  on,  in.  The  teacher  may  print  the  word  upon  the  black- 
board for  the  class,  or  it  may  be  shown  from  a  primer,  card, 
or  chart.  The  primary  methods  should  continue  until  the 
pupil  can  read  and  print  from  memory  any  simple  sentence 
of  monosyllables  or  dissyllables. 

The  following  rules,  derived  from  the  principles  of  teach- 
ing as  advanced  by  Pestalozzi,  may  serve  as  a  guide  to  many 
young  persons  who  desire  to  make  teaching  a  profession. 


66  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

1.  Never  tell  a  child  what  he  can  discover  for  himself! 

2.  One  difficulty  at  a  time  to  overcome,  and  but  one. 

3.  The  measure  of  information  is  not  what  the  teacher  can 
give,  but  what  the  child  can  receive. 

4.  Accustom  the  child  to  do.     Educate  the  hand. 

5.  Develop  an^idea,  and  then  give  the  term. 

C.  Proceed  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  from  the 
particular  to  the  general,  from  the  concrete  to  the  abstract, 
from  the  simple  to  the  more  difficult. 

Note. — Require  the  pupils  to  express  themselves  in  com- 
plete terms,  leaving  no  part  of  a  sentence  to  be  understood ; 
never  accepting  nods,  yes  or  no,  as  replies. 

ANALYTICAL  OR  OBJECTIVE  METHODS. 

The  analytical  or  objective  method  takes  the  name  "ob- 
jective" from  its  dependence  upon  the  use  of  objects  to  in- 
troduce the  lessons,  and  "  analytical"  because  a  word  is  first 
learned  as  a  whole,  and  then  analyzed  or  reduced  to  its  pri- 
mary elements. 

Each  lesson  of  one  word  is  arranged  something  like  the 
following  plan ;  then,  when  a  sentence  can  be  formed  from 
the  words  that  have  been  thus  learned,  it  should  be  done. 
At  first  no  letter  should  receive  more  than  one  sound.  The 
vowels  should  take  their  short  sounds,  afterward  their  long 
sounds,  the  remaining  ones  last. 

ORDER    OF   THE    OBJECTIVE    PLAN. 

1st.  Show  a  real  object,  or  illustrate  or  demonstrate  a  word, " 
and  draw  out  its  name,  nature,  qualities,  parts,  and  uses.  Be 
sure  to  allow  each  pupil  the  opportunity  to  tell  all  he  or  she 
connectedly  can  about  the  object,  without  prompting  or  ques- 
tioning. If  the  class  be  large,  divide  the  work,  allowing  A 
to  give  its  name  and  nature,  B  its  qualities,  C  its  parts,  and 
D  its  uses,  in  order  to  get  through  the  work  in  the  allotted 
time. 

2d.  Show  the  class  a  picture  (object)  representing  the  real 
object,  and  draw  from  the  pupils  the  points  of  resemblance, 
difference,  etc. 

3d.  Show  the  class  a  word  (object)  representing  the  real 


PRIMAEY   CLASS   METHODS.  67 

and  picture  objects.  Draw  out  a  description  of  the  word  as 
to  outline ;  then  require  the  pupils  to  discover  and  point  out 
duplicates  of  this  word  from  the  cards,  charts,  or  books.  Con- 
tinue this  exercise  until  the  pupils  can  recognize  the  word 
readily  at  sight. 

4th.  Require  each  pupil  to  produce  sentences  containing 
the  word  of  the  lesson  until  the  use  of  the  word  is  perfectly 
understood.* 

5th.  Print  the  word  upon  the  board,  and  explain  its  sepa- 
rate elements  (letters  or  sounds)  as  to  the  formation  of  the 
word — how  the  sounds  are  produced,  whether  with  the  lips, 
tongue,  teeth,  or  palate  principally.  Let  each  pupil  copy 
the  letters  (from  memory)  upon  the  blackboard  or  upon  the 
slate.  Pronounce  the  word  slowly,  so  that  each  element 
can  be  distinguished  singly;  then  increase  in  rapidity  of 
pronunciation.  Reverse  the  time,  and  require  the  class  to 
follow  in  the  phonic  spelling. 

6th.  Combine  words  that  have  been  learned  into  sen- 
tences, and  print  them  upon  the  board,  requiring  the  class 
to  make  out  the  sentences  alone. 

7th.  Allow  the  pupils  to  select  word-cards,  and  to  com- 
bine them  so  as  to  make  sentences.  If  word-cards  are  not 
in  use,  the  pupils  may  be  detailed  in  groups  to  reproduce  a 
whole  sentence  upon  the  board  or  upon  their  slates,  and  aft- 
erward correct  them,  as  in  Nos.  5  and  6,  page  68. 

Note. — Before  class -hour  the  teacher  should  select  the 
word  or  words  which  will  constitute  the  lesson,  and  have 
ready  the  necessary  illustrations.  If  the  words  can  be  illus- 
trated by  the  real  object,  in  or  out  of  doors,  arrangement 
should  be  made  to  do  so.  If  it  must  be  illustrated  by  other 
means,  preparation  should  be  made  that  nothing  be  omitted 
that  will  aid  in  giving  a  clear  perception  of  the  meaning  and 
use  of  the  word.  The  words  in,  out,  under,  over,  more,  less, 
etc.,  are  words  simple  enough  when  developed  by  compari- 
son, experiment,  and  reason. 

*  The  teacher  should  not  go  too  rapidly  with  these  steps.  Here  is  work 
enough  for  weeks  and  months.  The  work  of  the  fifth  step  may  be  post- 
poned until  many  words  are  learned  as  sight-words,  both  in  print  and  as 
reproduced  upon  the  slates  and  board. 


68  MANUAL  OF  READING. 

Objects  should  be  presented — 

1st,  to  the  senses,  or  perception. 

2d,  to  the  laws  of  memory. 

3d,  to  the  reflective  or  reasoning  powers. 

Ideas  are  developed — 
1st,  by  appealing  to  the  senses. 
2d,  by  comparison. 
3d,  by  experiment. 
4th,  by  reason. 

SYNTHETICAL  METHODS. 
There  are  three  synthetical  class  methods :   Memorizing 
letters  in  selections  of  two,  three,  etc.,  which  will  make  one 
or  more  words ;  memorizing  letters  in  alphabetic  order ;  and 
the  phonic  or  phonetic  method. 

MEMORIZING   LETTERS   IN   GROUPS    OR   SELECTIONS. 

1st.  Short  vowels  and  a  few  consonants. 

2d.  Long  vowels  and  a  few  consonants. 

3d.  Other  vowel  sounds  and  consonants. 

This  is  a  very  good  method,  and  is  employed  by  many 
excellent  primary  teachers.  The  lessons  may  be  given  in 
about  the  following  order,  varying,  of  course,  to  suit  the  ma- 
terial and  apparatus  at  hand. 

1st.  Select  two  or  three  letters  which,  when  joined,  will 
produce  a  word  or  words. 

2d.  Print  the  first  of  these  letters  sufficiently  large  upon 
the  blackboard  to  be  seen  by  the  entire  class. 

3d.  Let  the  class  give  the  sound  of  the  letter ;  its  form 
and  resemblance  to  some  familiar  object. 

4th.  Detail  the  class  in  groups  or  divisions  suited  to  the 
size  of  the  board,  to  reprint  or  copy  the  letter  and  give  its 
sound. 

5th.  Obtain  criticisms  from  the  class  by  comparing  each 
copy  with  the  original  printed  letters,  and  have  all  errors 
corrected  by  the  pupil  who  made  them. 

6th.  Let  the  class  reproduce  the  letter  upon  their  slates. 
The  teacher  will  examine  the  slates,  and  copy  the  mistakes 


PRIMARY   CLASS   METHODS.  69 

upon  the  board  for  the  class  to  correct.  After  correction, 
the  pupils  should  examine  their  respective  slates,  and  note 
how  many  errors  are  their  own.  The  slate  review  should 
be  entirely  from  memory. 

7th.  Detail  several  to  find  the  same  or  duplicate  letters 
among  the  letter-cards,  upon  the  charts,  or  in  books. 

8th.  When  all  the  selected  letters  have  been  learned,  put 
them  together  to  form  words. 

9th.  Write  or  print  the  word  upon  the  board,  to  be  criti- 
cised by  class  divisions  as  were  the  letters  before. 

10th.  Let  the  word  be  reviewed  upon  the  slate  without  a 
copy,  and  criticised  as  was  the  former  slate  exercise. 

11th.  Require  each  pupil  to  originate  a  sentence  contain- 
ing the  word. 

12th.  If  the  letters  can  be  arranged  so  as  to  form  another 
simple  word  or  words,  it  may  be  done  at  this  point  of  the 
lesson,  and  each  of  the  words  thus  formed  be  treated  as  the 
first  word. 

13  th.  The  class  should  be  trained  upon  the  sounds  of  tho 
letters  in  succession,  as  arranged  in  the  tabular  view. 

14th.  Require  the  pupils  to  point  out  or  mark  the  silent 
letters  in  words. 

15th.  Sometimes  the  form  can  be  impressed  by  uniting 
instruction  and  amusement.  Make  the  capital  letters  upon 
the  board ;  then  give  each  pupil  two  cuts  of  straw  or  sticks, 
to  make  as  many  of  these  simple  capitals  as  can  be  made 
with  two  lines.  When  they  have  made  L,  T,  V,  X,  give 
each  one  more,  and  have  A,  E,  F,  H,  I,  K,  N,  Y,  Z,  and  with 
another  add  M  and  W.  The  remaining  letters  with  curved 
lines  they  will  soon  learn  to  make. 

Card  and  Chart  Lessons. 
The  following  method  of  teaching  selections  of  letters  by 
means  of  cards  and  charts  alone  has  been  so  successfully 
employed  in  teaching  small  classes,  that  it  deserves  a  place 
among  the  best  methods  of  teaching  primary  reading.  Give 
each  member  of  the  class  a  letter-card,  whispering  its  sound, 
charging  them  to  remember,  but  not  to  reveal  to  any  one 
else.     When  they  have  had  time  to  memorize  the  shape, 


70  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

collect  the  cards,  and  call  the  class  one  by  one  to  select 
from  the  cards  on  the  table  the  letter  which  they  held,  or 
point  out  a  similar  one  on  the  chart.  When  a  child  has 
learned  two  letters  that  will  make  a  word,  as  ox,  give  the 
name  of  the  word,  then  prefix  b  for  box,/ for  fox,  etc.  In 
this  way  a  great  many  words  may  be  learned  by  changing 
the  initial  or  terminal  letter. 

When  a  number  of  letters  are  known  by  the  whole  class, 
one  may  be  sent  to  the  chart  to  point  out  and  name  letters 
that  will  make  words,  as  s,  a,  t,  sat ;  h,  a,  t,  hat ;  b,  a,  t,  bat ; 
c,  a,  t,  cat ;  r,  a,  t,  rat.  Let  the  one  at  the  chart  spell  in  this 
manner  (by  sound)  as  many  words  as  he  can ;  the  one,  how- 
ever, who  first  observes  a  mistake  to  supersede  the  one  at 
the  chart.  Another  instructive  amusement  is  to  allow  the 
class  to  select  letters  from  the  cards  or  blocks  that  will 
build  words  found  upon  the  word-chart. 

Memorizing  Letters  in  Alphabetical  Order. 
This  method  is  now  entirely  abandoned,  other  and  better 
methods  having  been  adopted  in  its  place. 

PHONIC  OR  PHONETIC. 

Phonetics,  phonics,  or  phonology  is  the  science  of  repre- 
senting the  elements  of  language. 

A  phonograph  is  a  graphic  or  written  sign,  a  distinct  let- 
ter to  represent  a  unit  of  speech,  and  always  one  and  the 
same  unit  of  speech  or  vocal  sound. 

Phonography  is  writing  by  phonographs,  and  is  long  or 
short. 

"  Phonetic  long-hand,  or  long-hand  phonography,  is  writ- 
ing produced  with  a  phonetic  alphabet,  consisting  of  most 
of  the  ordinary  script  letters,  and  additional  ones  of  the 
same  general  character  for  the  additional  sounds." 

Stenography,  or  short-hand  phonography,  is  a  term  ex- 
pressing extreme  brevity  of  word-signs  founded  on  the  pho- 
nographic system  of  sounds  and  signs. 

The  phonic  or  phonetic  method  of  teaching  primary  class- 
es may  be  made  analytical  or  synthetical,  according  to  the 
desire  of  the  teacher. 


PRIMARY    CLASS  METHODS,  71 

This  method,  although  founded  upon  reason  and  common 
sense,  has  as  yet  but  indifferently  succeeded. 

It  is  based  upon  the  principle  that  every  distinct  unit  of 
speech  or  elementary  sound  of  a  language  should  have  a 
corresponding  sign.  The  English  language  is  composed  of 
thirty-four  or  thirty-six  sounds,  and  hence  should  have  thir- 
ty-four or  thirty-six  signs  or  letters  to  represent  those  sounds. 
Then  every  word  would  be  pronounced  as  it  is  spelled,  and 
spelled  without  silent  letters. 

In  the  phonic  or  phonetic  method,  pupils  who  have  learn- 
ed these  corresponding  sounds  and  signs  will  have  no  trouble 
in  pronouncing  a  word  when  seen  in  print,  or  spelling  words 
properly  pronounced. 

Phonography  would  save  much  time  and  labor  when  con- 
trasted with  the  present  English  orthography,  in  which  pro- 
nunciation is  learned  orally  or  from  the  dictionary. 

Some  learned  philologists  object  to  the  change,  because, 
in  their  opinion,  the  language  would  lose  its  etymology, 
which  is  chiefly  known  from  the  spelling.  But  we  could 
not  lose  the  origin  of  the  words  if  the  present  orthography 
were  placed  immediately  after  the  words  in  the  dictionaries ; 
and  this  would  add  but  one  link  more  to  the  chain  of  ety- 
mological study,  while  it  would  save  time  and  labor  for  the 
student.  % 

The  nearest  approach  to  a  strictly  phonetic  method  in  el- 
ementary instruction,  consistent  with  accepted  orthography 
and  the  printed  characters  in  common  use,  is  the  following, 
which  has  been  used  and  approved  by  some  of  our  best 
primary  teachers.  The  teacher,  taking  a  single  word,  as 
map,  brings  out  the  oral  elements,  showing  on  the  board 
how  each  one  is  represented  by  printed  characters.  Let  the 
marks  be  those  of  some  standard  authority,  using  them  with 
such  letters  as  represent  more  than  one  sound. 

When  these  characters  are  learned  so  as  to  be  read  and 
written,  take  another  word  with  not  more  than  one  new 
character,  as  n  in  man.  Proceed  in  this  manner,  requiring 
the  pupil  to  write  the  characters  for  the  sounds  previously 
given.  As  soon  as  enough  characters  are  given  to  make 
new  familiar  words,  as  with  the  above,  we  may  make  map 


12  MANUAL   OF    READING. 

and  pan;  let  them  be  printed  on  the  board,  and  copied  by 
the  children  for  the  next  lesson.  Continue  thus  with  the 
short  sound  of  a  in  words  of  three  letters;  follow  with  the 
short  sounds  of  the  other  vowels  in  monosyllables  having 
no  silent  letters,  then  with  the  other  sounds  of  the  vowels, 
until  all  the  characters  and  elementary  sounds  are  learned. 
Silent  letters  may  be  marked  with  a  line  underneath. 

Thus  we  have  a  complete  phonetic  system  for  learning  to 
read  words.  As  soon  as  possible,  omit  the  marks,  and  let 
the  letters  and  orthographic  spelling  be  learned  in  connec- 
tion with  the  phonetic.  When  words  occur  (like  they)  in 
which  the  sounds  are  not  represented  by  any  marks  given, 
they  may  be  spelled  with  the  common  letters,  and  the  pro- 
nunciation given  with  phonetic  characters  in  parenthesis 
(thd).  To  write  sentences  before  the  sounds  can  all  be  pre- 
sented to  the  class,  a  few  words  may  be  printed  on  the 
board,  and  learned  as  sight  words. 

See  Introduction  to  Selections. 


ADVANCED   CLASS   METHODS.  73 

TABLE  NO.  24. 

EEADING-CLASS  FOKMULA  * 

I,  PRELIMINARY  EXERCISES. f    (Time  from  one  to  five  minutes.; 

Vocal  Gymnastics : 

1.  Pronouncing  words.  £ 

2.  Analyzing  words,  f 

3.  Phonic  spelling.  * 

4.  Learning  some  fact  in  elocution,  or  practicing  the  tables  In 

Orthophony. 

Calisthenics  or  Gesture.     (See  page  76.) 

II.  SELECTIONS  OR  LITERARY  PRODUCTIONS.*  (To  be  read 
according  to  any  of  the  standard  methods  described  on  pages 
78  to  81.) 

I.  REVIEWS. 

Of  the  selections  (page  89) : 

1.  The  form  and  manner *  (prose  or  poetry,  etc.,  page  86,  89). 

2.  The  thought  or  subject*  (pastoral,  historical,  etc.,  page  86,  89). 

3.  The  objects  (their  names,  natural  or  artificial,  etc.). 

4.  The  incidents. 

5.  The  meaning  of  words  (technical  or  received). 

6.  The  moral  or  the  personal  application. 
Of  the  errors  of  pupils  in — 

1.  Reading  position.     (See  page  24.) 

2.  Articulation.     (See  pages  34  to  44.) 

3.  Pronunciation.     (See  pages  44  to  54.) 

4.  Phonic  spelling.     (See  page  75.) 
,  Definition.     (See  note,  page  75.) 

C.  Elocution  (general  or  particular  faults). 

IV.  PORTIONS  OF  COMPOSITION  TO  MEMORIZE.*  (See  page 
86.) 

EXAMINATION  OF  THE  ADVANCE  LESSON.*    (See  page.  87) 

*  This  Formula  can,  by  attention  to  the  capacity  of  the  pupils,  be  adapted  to  any 
c!aBS*-ki  reading  that  has  mastered  monosyllables.  The  younger  classes  should 
receive  drill  in  elocution,  but  not  facts  or  rules,  and  the  review  should  be  sim- 
plified. 

t  The  preliminary  exercises  should  not  occupy  more  than  five  minutes  in  any 
class ;  and  if  the  time  for  recitation  be  less  than  20  minutes,  then  one  or  two  minutes 
only  should  be  used. 

t  This  sign  is  placed  after  such  exercises,  etc.,  in  the  Formula  as  can  not  well  be 
omitted. 

D 


7  4  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

EXPLANATION  OF  THE  FORMULA. 

I.  PRELIMINARY    EXERCISES. 

The  reading  hour  having  arrived,  the  pupils  sliould  quiet* 
ly  put  their  desks  in  order,  and  repair  to  the  recitation  seats 
with  all  necessary  articles  for  the  hour,  as  readers,  slates,  etc. 

The  preliminary  exercises  should  not  exceed  five  minutes' 
duration  in  a  primary  or  collegiate  class,  and  if  the  exer- 
cises are  carried  on  briskly,  as  they  should  be,  little  or  no 
uneasiness  will  be  manifested. 

No.  I.  Pronouncing  Words. 

A  list  of  such  words  as  are  most  frequently  mispronounced 
or  badly  articulated  in  the  class-room  should  be  jotted  down, 
and  a  few  of  them  pronounced  each  class-time  to  begin  the 
preliminary  exercises.  The  class  should  repeat  them  in  con* 
cert  after  the  models  produced  by  the  teacher.  Let  this  be 
done  accurately  and  rapidly.  These  words  may  be  placed 
upon  the  upper  corner  of  a  blackboard,  and  new  ones  add' 
ed,  until  a  column  is  obtained  for  practice.  The  hardest 
words  in  or  over  the  lesson  may  be  substituted  for  those 
upon  the  blackboard. 

Again,  for  variety,  the  pupils  may  alternate  in  pronounc- 
ing words  from  the  book  or  from  the  board,  either  in  class- 
divisions  or  with  the  teacher. 

(Ex.  of  repetition.)  Teach.  Amidst',  amidst\  Pupils. 
Amidst7,  amidst\ 

(Ex.  of  alternation.)  Class.  Careless\  Lazy  Pupils.  List- 
lessness\ 

(Ex.  of  alternation.)  Teach.  Civility\  Class.  Piety \  (See 
Lists  of  Words,  pages  41, 43.) 

JVb.  2.  Analyzing  Words. 
Words  may  be  analyzed  by  syllable  or  by  sound.  To 
analyze  by  syllable,  first  pronounce  the  whole  word,  then 
repeat  it,  leaving  off  the  first  syllable ;  repeat  again,  leav- 
ing off  the  second  syllable ;  so  continue  until  the  last  sylla- 
ble.    To  analyze  by  sound,  pronounce  the  whole  word,  and 


ADVANCED   CLASS   METHODS. 


repeat  it,  leaving  off  the  first  sound  at  each  repetition,  until 
one  sound  remains  alone. 

Examples. 


By  Syllables. 

By  So 

unds. 

Com-mu-ni-ca-bil'i-ty. 

Strangl'dst. 

band. 

-mu-ni-ca-biri-ty. 

trangl'dst. 

and. 

-ni-ca-bil'i-ty. 

rangl'dst. 

nd. 

-ca-bil'i-ty. 

angFdst. 

d. 

-bil'i-ty. 

ngl'dst. 

Coughing.* 

-i-ty. 

gl'dst. 

oughing. 

-ty. 

l'dst. 

ghing. 

Gov-ern-ment. 

dst. 

ing. 

-ern-ment. 

St. 

ng. 

-ment;. 

t. 

JVo.  3.  Phonic  Spelling. 

It  is  not  thought  advisable  to  require  orthographical  spell- 
ing in  the  reading  hour,f  but  phonic  spelling  instead.  The 
teacher  should  pronounce  a  word,  and  the  pupils  repeat  it 
and  spell  it  by  sound  in  concert.  In  order  to  detect  indi- 
vidual errors,  the  words  may  be  spelled  by  the  pupils  suc- 
cessively. It  is  better,  in  phonic  spelling,  to  mark  the  di- 
vision of  syllables  by  pauses  instead  of  repetitions,  as  has 
been  our  custom.  The  syllabic  divisions  will  thus  be  re- 
tained, and  much  valuable  time  saved.  Of  course  the  silent 
letters  are  omitted  in  phonic  spelling,  and,  if  the  teacher 
finds  it  difficult  to  discover  and  produce  the  true  sounds  of 

*  If  any  silent  letters  occur  in  the  word  you  wish  to  analyze,  of  course 
you  will  omit  them,  since  you  are  spelling  by  sound,  and  silent  letters  have 
no  sound.  The  pupils  will  do  better  to  look  at  the  teacher,  while  analyzing 
by  sound,  than  at  the  words.  The  accent  should  be  retained  throughout 
each  word,  which  is  perhaps  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  exercise.  This 
exercise  is  very  important  in  developing  a  distinct  and  beautiful  articulation. 
You  can  not  afford  to  omit  it,  though  no  more  than  two  words  can  be  ana- 
lyzed at  each  lesson. 

f  Spelling  by  letter  should  be  learned  in  spelling  class,  beginning  soon  aft- 
er the  child  can  read  words  at  sight.  The  meaning  of  words  come  more 
properly  in  connection  with  reading.  Definitions,  however,  should  not  be 
forced  upon  the  memory  of  the  young. 


76  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

a  word,  it  is  best  to  seek  the  correct  pronunciation  of  the 
word  from  the  dictionary,  then  pronounce  it  very  slowly,  so 
that  the  sounds  appear  to  the  ear  as  m — a — n  (pronounced 
slowly). 

No.  4.  Elocution. 

GENERAL   OR   SPECIAL   FACTS,  FAULTS,  AND   DRILL. 

It  is  proper  at  this  point  to  give  such  instruction  in  the 
science  of  speech  as  the  teacher  believes  the  class  able  to 
comprehend  and  execute.  There  is  drill  suited  to  the  small- 
est pupils,  and  matter  sufficiently  difficult  for  seniors  in  col- 
lege. Drill  upon  orthoepy,  pitch,  force,  and  time,  should  be 
Introduced  at  this  point,  giving  one  fact  at  a  time,  with  co- 
pious illustrations. 

Young  pupils  should  be  taught  by  actual  example  and 
practice  rather  than  by  rules  and  theories.  If  a  pupil  has  a 
defect  in,  or  peculiarity  of  speech,  correct  it  if  possible,  and 
do  not  forget  to  drill  upon  the  elementary  sounds  of  our 
language. 

No.  5.  Calisthe?iics,  or  Gesture,  etc. 

A  little  exercise  in  calisthenics  is  next  in  order,  and  of 
considerable  importance.  It  quickens  the  blood,  brightens 
the  eye,  makes  pliant  and  strong  the  muscles — in  fac%  gives 
life  and  elasticity  to  the  whole  system.     See  Table  No.  1 . 

Avoid  colds  from  drafts,  and  also  violent  exercise,  like 
pounding  the  chest. 

Note  1.  There  has  been  well-grounded  complaint  of  inju- 
ries caused  by  physical  training,  and  therefore  the  warning 
is  repeated.  If  the  outward  motions  of  the  arms  be  strong, 
and  the  return  movements  be  made  with  relaxed  muscles^  no 
bruises  can  occur.  It  is  severe  and  constant  rigidity  of  mus- 
cle that  causes  injury,  and  at  the  same  time  the  exercises 
lose  in  excellence  and  grace  as  they  gain  in  severity. 

Note  2.  Sudden  transitions  from  rest  to  violent  exercise, 
and  the  reverse,  should  be  avoided.  Begin  with  light  exer- 
cises, and  let  the  most  difficult  ones  come  in  the  middle  of 
the  lesson. 

The  exercises  contained  in  this  volume  are  not  exj>ected 


ADVANCED   CLASS   METHODS.  77 

to  supersede  any  good  hygienic  training,  but  for  the  benefit 
of  those  teachers  who  have  no  method  of  physical  training 
at  command,  and  for  those  students  who  desire  special  direc- 
tions for  self-culture. 

Ventilation. 

Begin  all  exercises  in  respiration,  intonation,  and  calis- 
thenics by  giving  free  ingress  to  pure  air. 

The  importance  of  ventilating  school-rooms  can  not  be  too 
strongly  impressed  upon  teacher  and  pupil. 

There  is  little  danger  of  contracting  colds  during  exer- 
cise, even  if  windows  and  doors  are  partially  opened  in  cold 
weather,  provided  care  be  taken  to  close  them  when  rest- 
ing, and  to  throw  some  extra  clothing  about  the  person  if 
very  warm. 

The  climate  and  condition  of  weather  will  of  course  gov- 
ern the  manner  of  ventilation,  but  a  change  of  air  you  must 
have  to  insure  vigor  of  mind  and  body. 

It  is  the  teacher's  duty  to  see  that  pupils,  when  warm,  are 
properly  protected  from  air  currents. 

For  exercises  in  calisthenics,  see  page  23 ;  in  intonation, 
page  20;  in  gesture,  page  101. 

Rhythm  of  Movement  or  Time. 

The  exercises  in  calisthenics  should  be  rhythmical — that 
is,  produced  with  regularly  recurring  accent ;  and  to  render 
it  so  requires  an  indication  of  quadruple  time.  This  may  be 
accomplished  in  various  ways.  The  first  and  most  simple 
means  is  counting.  The  accented  or  outward  motion  should 
correspond  with  the  odd  numbers,  and  the  unaccented  or 
inward  motion  with  the  even  numbers.  Thus:  one,  two; 
three,  four;  five,  six;  seven,  eight:  one,  two,  etc.  An- 
other method  is  that  of  calling  the  unaccented  syllable 
"and."  Thus:  one  and;  two  and;  three  and;  four 
and:  one  and ;  two  and,  etc. 

If  the  exercise  be  "thrusting"  the  hand  should  go  out  at 
" one"  and  return  to  the  body  at  " and;"  go  out  again  at 
" two"  and  return  at  " and;"  go  out  at  " three"  and  return 
at  "  and"  etc.     The  odd  number,  or  " and"  represents  the 


IS  MANUAL   OF  BEADING. 

return  movement.  Some  persons  make  accented  raps  with 
a  stick,  ruler,  or  cane  to  time  the  exercises,  while  those  who 
find  it  convenient  adapt  the  exercises  to  music  of  the  violin, 
piano,  or  other  instrument. 

II.   SELECTIONS. 

The  literary  productions  to  be  read  after  the  preliminary 
exercises  should  not  be  confined  to  the  Reader,  but  should 
be  drawn  from  various  sources — libraries,  periodicals,  and 
papers.* 

In  using  a  reader,  do  not  feel  obliged  to  follow  the  com- 
piler's arrangement  of  selections,  but  select  to  suit  the  time 
and  need.  If  the  selections  are  from  another  source,  they 
should  be  examined  by  the  teacher  before  being  used,  to  see 
that  the  matter  is  wholesome  and  instructive.  (See  Class 
Methods,  pages  79  to  85.) 

Usually  the  selection  should  be  given  out  a  day  or  two 
before  it  is  to  be  read.  Occasionally  let  the  pupils  select 
the  reading  matter,  giving  them  ample  time  to  do  so.  The 
selections  should  be  short  and  interesting. 

In  this  book  are  given  ten  standard  and  twenty-six  occa- 
sional methods  for  conducting  reading-classes.  The  former 
are  called  "  standard"  because  better  adapted  to  daily  use 
and  wear  well,  while  the  latter  are  named  "occasional  meth- 
ods" because  suited  to  give  variety  by  occasional  use.  Let 
the  occasional  methods  be  used  for  rest,  or  holiday,  or  re- 
wards of  merit.  In  many  schools  the  classes  are  too  large 
to  do  justice  to  them.  In  such  cases  the  preliminary  exer- 
cises should  be  given  as  general  exercises  to  the  whole 
school,  or  be  cut  down  to  one  or  two  minutes. 

Standard  Methods. 
Those  particular  reading-class  methods  that  can  be  used 
the  longest  without  wearying,  and  have  proven  most  effica- 
cious in  practice,  are  termed  Standard  Methods.     Of  these 
there  are  ten,  viz. : 

*  At  this  time  many  teachers  are  using  periodicals  in  reading-classes. 
Our  Young  Folks  and  The  Nursery  are  admirably  adapted  to  intermediate 
and  primary  instruction,  as  are  other  magazines  for  older  classes. 


ADVANCED   CLASS   METHODS.  79 

I.  Beginning  back  at  each  mistake. 

Note, — Name  a  certain  number  of  lines  (perhaps  three  or 
four)  which  each  pupil  may  read,  requiring  the  reader  to  be- 
gin back  at  the  beginning  every  time  a  mistake  is  made,* 
until  there  are  no  longer  errors  for  special  criticism.  This 
method  makes  careful  and  accurate  readers. 

II.  By  competition,  each  reading  the  same  stanza. 
Note. — Allow  each  member  of  the  class  to  read  the  same 

stanza  or  division  of  prose,  to  see  who  will  make  the  fewest 
blunders  in  once  reading.  Impress  the  pupils  with  your  de- 
sire for  their  success,  and  this  method  will  prove  a  good  one. 

III.  By  alternation  of  class  divisions. 

Note. — Divide  the  class  into  two  or  more  sections,  and  re- 
quest the  pupils  of  each  section  to  read  in  concert  the  suc- 
cessive lines,  couplets,  or  stanzas  in  the  lesson.  Section  A 
reads  two  lines,  Section  B  the  two  following,  etc.  This  keeps 
all  the  class  occupied  and  attentive. 

IY.  By  couples. 

Note. — Allow  the  pupils  to  read  in  couples  (A  and  B  to- 
gether, C  and  D  together,  etc.)  any  division  of  composition, 
as  a  sentence  or  a  stanza,  until  all  the  class  have  read.  Each 
pupil  can  read  in  this  manner  twice  as  much  as  one  could 
singly,  without  materially  hindering  the  teacher  from  de- 
tecting individual  errors. 

V.  Looking  off  as  much  as  possible. 

Note. — Let  the  class  read  in  concert,  by  couples,  or  singly, 
looking  off  the  book  as  much  as  possible,  in  order  to  train 
the  eye  to  see  ahead.  Every  person  who  is  able  to  read 
new  or  strange  composition  tcell  must  be  able  to  see  more 
than  the  solitary  word  he  is  pronouncing.  Choose  simple 
verse  at  first,  that  can  be  easily  seen  and  retained.  Try  to 
see  the  whole  line  at  one  glance. 

This  method  adds  materially  to  the  grace  of  a  reader  by 
giving  the  hearers  frequent  and  continued  expressions  of 
intelligence  and  emotion  through  eye  and  gesture.  In  this 
way  a  person  of  quick  comprehension  and  close  memory  can 
render  a  written  or  printed  discourse  almost  like  extempo- 
raneous matter  or  improvisation. 

*  See  Errors  of  Speech,  pages  34  and  37. 


80  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

VI.  Repeating  after  the  teacher. 

Note, — The  teacher  reads  a  line  or  sentence,  and  the  class 
repeats  the  same  in  concert,  copying  the  model,  either  with 
closed  books  or  with  eyes  upon  the  passages  rendered. 
Again  the  teacher  reads,  and  the  class  repeats,  and  thus 
continues  to  do  until  satisfied.  If  the  teacher  be  a  good 
model,  the  class  will  gain  much  by  imitation ;  if  not,  then 
the  method  is  not  so  safe. 

VII.  Repeating  after  each  member  of  the  class. 

Note. — In  this  method  the  pupils  successively  assume  the 
role  of  teacher:  i.  e.9  A  lines  (reads  line  by  line)  a  division 
of  prose  matter  or  poetry,  and  the  class  repeats  the  same 
line  by  line.  Next  B  lines,  and  the  class  repeats.  C  and  D 
follow,  until  each  member  of  the  class  has  lined  a  portion  of 
the  selection  for  the  rest  to  repeat.  This  method  keeps  the 
whole  class  at  work,  and  renders  many  of  them  laudably 
ambitious  to  become  good  models.  (A  line  or  couplet  each, 
and  the  class  repeat,'  is  a  variation  of  this  methpd,  keeping 
the  whole  class  busy.) 

VIII.  By  alternation — class  and  teacher. 

Note. — The  teacher  reads  the  line,  couplet,  or  stanza,  and 
the  class  reads  the  next  line,  couplet,  or  stanza  in  concert. 
In  this  method,  if  the  teacher  reads  clearly  and  forcibly, 
there  is  something  contagious  in  it,  and  the  class  will  do 
better  for  the  example  and  comparison. 

IX.  By  call  by  number. 

Note. — Number  the  pupils  of  the  class,  and  call  them  by 
these  numbers  in  the  succession  in  which  you  wish  to  hear 
them  read.  The  one  who  is  reading  should  cease  the  in- 
stant a  new  number  is  called  by  the  teacher,  even  if  in  the 
midst  of  a  sentence,  phrase,  or  word,  and  the  one  whose 
number  is  called  should  commence  immediately  where  the 
last  one  left  off. 

If  the  new  number  fails  to  commence  aright,  call  another; 
if  the  place  is  still  lost,  call  a  third.  Continue  the  exercise, 
if  possible,  until  all  the  numbers  have  been  called  and  have 
responded.  There  should  be  no  talking  or  whispering  dur- 
ing this  exercise,  as  it  would  create  unendurable  confusion. 

It  exercises  the  memory  of  teacher  and  pupils,  in  order 


ADVANCED    CLASS   METHODS.  81 

that  the  former  may  know  what  numbers  have  been  called 
and  about  how  much  each  has  read,  and  that  the  latter  may 
be  able  to  rehearse  any  errors  in  the  review.  Indolent  and 
inattentive  pupils  should  be  called  oftener,  that  they  may 
learn  to  keep  pace  and  place.  This  method  develops  the 
power  of  concentration. 

X.  Appoint  a  critic,  or  critics,  whose  business  it  is  to  point 
out  and  correct  errors  of  each  pupil  in  turn  as  he  or  she  has 
finished  reading  a  certain  number  of  lines. 

Note. — Appoint  two  critics,  and  name  them  "Critic  No.  1" 
and  "Critic  No.  2."  Divide  the  selection  into  portions  of 
three  lines  each,  in  order  that  all  may  read,  and  request  a 
member  of  the  class  to  commence  reading. 

When  the  three  lines  are  read  the  reader  ceases,  and  it  is 
the  duty  of  Critic  No.  1  to  rise  and  enumerate  and  correct 
each  and  every  mistake  that  he  or  she  has  observed.  When 
done,  Critic  No.  2  rises,  enumerates,  and  corrects  all  errors 
that  he  observed  which  Critic  No.  1  overlooked. 

After  the  appointed  critics  are  done,  let  the  remainder  of 
the  class  signal  any  unmentioned  error  by  raising  the  hand. 
The  teacher  then  points  to  the  one  who  shall  be  heard  first, 
and  all  signaling  the  same  mistake  drop  the  hand;  thus 
continue  until  all  errors  noticed  have  been  corrected.  If 
any  errors  remain  unnoticed  by  the  class,  it  is  the  teacher's 
duty  to  correct  or  point  them  out.  Recollect  no  criticisms 
are  to  be  repeated,  and  no  one  to  speak  but  in  order.  This 
method  fixes  the  attention  of  the  entire  class,  and  renders 
them  critically  observant  during  each  exercise. 

Occasional  Methods. 

I.  Reading  to  a  mistake  judged  by  the  teacher. 

Note. — Let  the  class  read  in  the  usual  order  of  succession, 
each  pupil  stopping  at  the  first  error  corrected  by  the  teach- 
er, and  the  next  one  in  order  correcting  the  mistake  and  read- 
ing on  until  he  also  is  corrected.  The  fault  in  this  method  is 
that  the  best  readers  read  longest,  and  those  who  need  the 
most  training  are  comparatively  inactive. 

II.  Reading  to  a  mistake  judged  by  a  pupil,  who  corrects 
the  error,  and  proceeds  to  read  from  that  point. 

D2 


82  »  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Note. — This  method  is  very  like  No.  I.,  except  that  the 
errors  are  discovered  and  indicated  by  the  uplifted  hands 
of  pupils.  If  more  than  one  hand  is  raised,  the  teacher 
points  to  or  otherwise  indicates  which  one  is  to  read  next. 
That  pupil  corrects  the  mistake  and  continues  to  read  until 
another  criticises  and  is  appointed  to  read.  This  method 
tends  to  render  pupils  attentive,  careful,  and  critical. 

III.  Reading  any  where  the  Reader  is  opened. 

Note. — Let  each  pupil,  when  about  to  read,  first  close  the 
book,  then  rise,  open  it,  and  read  whatever  his  eye  first  rests 
upon.  If  any  member  of  the  class  is  unable  to  catch  both 
words  and  meaning,  the  reader  must  repeat,  reading  over 
and  over  again  what  he  has  attempted  to  read,  until  it  is  at 
least  clearly  intelligible  to  all  of  the  class.  This  method 
makes  intelligible  readers. 

IV.  Reading  medley.    All  read  at  once  in  different  places. 
Note. — In  this  method  each  pupil  should  have  a  book; 

but  if  two  must  use  one,  let  them  read  together.  Arrange 
the  class  in  single  or  double  lines,  so  that  you  can  pass  near 
and  speak  or  listen  to  a  pupil  at  will.  There  should  be  at 
least  as  many  lines  in  the  selected  poem  as  there  are  pupils 
in  the  class,  and  all  lines  equal  in  length.  The  best  voices 
should  be  placed  at  the  head  and  foot  of  the  class.  No.  1 
commences  to  read ;  when  he  has  finished  one  line,  No.  2 
begins  at  the  first  line ;  when  he  has  done  the  line,  No.  3 
begins  at  the  first  line,  each  one  in  the  class  following  in  the 
same  manner  until  the  whole  class  are  reading  at  once. 

No  two  read  the  same  line  at  the  same  time.  No  pupil 
is  to  stop,  after  he  has  begun  reading,  until  the  poem  is  fin- 
ished. The  surest  way  to  start  this  exercise,  if  the  teacher 
can  endure  the  fatigue,  is  to  pass  from  pupil  to  pupil,  and 
read  the  first  line  of  the  poem  with  each  one  in  class ;  then, 
if  no  one  stops  prematurely,  the  wThole  class  will  be  reading 
when  the  teacher  is  through. 

This  method  strengthens  the  voices  of  timid  pupils  who 
are  unable  to  let  out  their  voices  to  the  fullest  extent  alone. 
It  also  renders  pupils  independent  in  recitation  by  the  con- 
centration necessary  to  read  amid  such  a  confusion  of  voices. 

V.  Reading  two  unlike  pieces  by  alternation. 


ADVANCED   CLASS   METHODS.  83 

Note. — Select  two  contrasting  pieces,  and  let  the  class 
read  in  concert  a  few  lines  of  each,  alternating  from  one  to 
the  other.  If  one  is  grave  and  the  other  brisk,  let  the  num- 
ber of  lines  of  the  brisk  piece  be  two  to  one  of  the  slow  or 
grave  piece.  This  method,  as  well  as  all  other  methods  of 
contrast,  enhance  the  power  of  personation,  the  life  of  drama 
or  dialogue. 

VI.  Reading-match,  choosing  sides. 

Note. — The  teacher  designates  two  of  the  class  as  leaders, 
who  choose  readers  for  their  respective  sides  precisely  as 
they  used  to  do  in  "  spelling  down."  The  teacher  may  act 
as  umpire,  deciding  mistakes.  The  contestants  stand  fac- 
ing each  other,  if  convenient,  and  No.  1  commences  reading. 
When  a  mistake  is  observed,  the  umpire  cries  "  Halt !"  and 
the  reader  takes  his  seat.  After  No.  1  of  the  first  division 
has  read,  No.  1  of  the  second  division  proceeds  to  read,  and 
continues  till  called  by  the  umpire.  In  this  way  the  class 
is  reduced  until  one  remains  alone.  There  is,  however,  the 
same  objection  to  this  method  that  there  is  to  No.  I.  and  to 
spelling  down,  both  of  which  deprive  the  poorest  pupils  of 
the  most  exercise.  To  give  the  poor  readers  equal  drill, 
this  method  can  be  conducted  in  the  following  manner : 

Divide  the  selection  into  divisions  of  a  certain  number  of 
lines,  and  allow  each  pupil  to  read  a  division,  keeping  a  tally 
of  the  mistakes  on  each  side,  to  compare  when  through  the 
exercise. 

The  reading-match  is  exciting,  and  of  great  service  when 
the  class  seems  dull  and  listless. 

VII.  Reflection.     "  See  thyself  as  others  see  thee." 
Note. — In  this  method  the  teacher  needs  to  bestow  great 

care,  and  have  an  almost  intuitive  perception  of  the  emo- 
tional nature  of  each  pupil,  otherwise  grief,  mortification,  or 
anger  may  be  displayed  during  the  exercise.  But  if  the 
teacher  be  kind-hearted  and  magnanimous,  the  pupils  feel  it, 
and  will  bear  a  great  deal.  There  should  be  no  ridicule  or 
sarcasm  in  the  mimicry,  and  then  the  looking-glass  method 
will  prove  safe  and  profitable. 

First,  then,  begin  with  the  bravest  scholars  in  the  class, 
and  not  with  those  timid,  shrinking  ones  who  feel  a  lump  in 


84  MANUAL   OF  HEADING. 

the  throat  whenever  you  speak  to  them.  Tell  them  that  you 
intend  to  read  after  them  line  by  line,  and  that  you  intend  to 
exaggerate  their  faults  a  little,  so  that  they  may  see  how  they 
appear  to  other  people.  Call  for  volunteers  to  begin  with5 
and  the  chances  are  you  will  have  hands  enough  raised  to 
select  as  you  please.  Take  one  of  these  brave  ones  aside,  or 
facing  the  class,  if  you  please,  and  let  them  read  a  line,  and 
then  imitate  their  manner  and  errors,  if  any.  So  continue 
until  a  stanza  or  prose  division  has  been  reflected  line  by 
line.  If  the  class  laugh,  say,  "Never  mind ;  we'll  see  who'll 
laugh  when  your  turn  comes."  Excuse  this  pupil,  and  call 
another,  and  another,  until  each  one  in  class  has  had  a  peep 
in  the  glass — the  faithful  glass  that,  with  hope  to  cure,  por- 
trays unconscious  defects. 

Many  persons  have  mannerisms  and  faults  of  speech  of 
which  they  seem  entirely  unconscious.  Convince  one  that 
he  is  wrong,  and  there  is  hope  of  making  him  right. 

VIII.  Contrasting  the  pure  with  other  qualities  of  voice. 
Note. — Select  a  poem  having  decided  rhythmical  accent. 

Read  the  successive  stanzas,  alternating  the  qualities  of 
voice.  The  pure  tone  should  always  be  used  as  one  of  the 
qualities  in  every  contrast.     (See  Qualities  of  Voice,  p.  126.) 

IX.  A  word  each. 

X.  A  sentence  each. 

XI.  To  a  punctuation  mark. 

XII.  A  line.  \ 

XIII.  A  couplet.  >-  Each  in  succession. 

XIV.  A  stanza.-  ) 

Note. — In  each  of  these  similar  methods  each  pupil  reads 
his  allotted  portion  just  as  if  he  expected  to  continue  read- 
ing, keeping  the  voice  up  on  the  last  word,  where  the  stress 
requires  it,  or  letting  it  down.  Herein  lies  the  skill  of  these 
methods.  The  pupils  must  be  attentive  to  keep  the  place, 
and  should  emphasize  and  accent  &s  if  to  go  on  reading. 

XV.  Alternate  repetition, 

Note. — A  reads  a  line,  B  repeats  it,  C  reads  the  succeeding 
line,  and  D  repeats  it,  etc. 

XVI.  Repeat  and  read  a  line  each  in  succession. 
Note.—  A  reads  two  lines;  B  repeats  the  last  line  that  A 


ADVANCED   CLASS  METHODS.  85 

read,  and  one  more ;  C  reads  the  last  line  that  B  read,  and 
one  more,  etc.  Let  each  one  leave  off  with  the  same  inflec- 
tion, emphasis,  as  if  to  continue. 

XVII.  Review  and  read  an  additional  word  each. 

Note. — A  reads  the  first  word ;  B  reads  the  first  and  sec- 
ond words ;  C  the  first,  second,  and  third ;  D  the  first,  sec- 
ond, third,  and  fourth,  etc.  When  the  repetition  is  too 
great,  begin  again.  In  prose  composition  six  or  eight  lines 
is  quite  enough. 

XVIII.  Review  and  read  an  additional  line  each. 
Note. — This  method  is  executed  like  XVII. 

XIX.  All  who  have  read,  repeat  all  that  has  been  read, 
and  an  additional  word  for  each  successive  reader. 

Note. — This  method  is  similar  to  XVII.  The  whole  class 
unite  in  the  repetitions.  A  reads  the  first  word  of  a  stanza ; 
A  and  B  read  the  first  and  second  words  of  the  stanza ;  A, 
B,  and  C  read  the  first,  second,  and  third  words ;  A,  B,  C, 
and  D  read  the  first,  second,  third,  and  fourth  words,  etc., 
until  all  the  words  of  the  stanza  are  read ;  then  begin  anew 
on  the  second  stanza. 

XX.  is  like  XIX,  except  that  lines  take  the  place  of  words. 
Note. — If  the  teacher  wishes  a  whole  class  to  learn  a 

poem,  this  is  a  quick  and  sure  way  to  accomplish  it. 

XXI.  Let  a  pupil  be  appointed,  from  time  to  time,  to  se- 
lect and  read  an  entire  selection  to  the  class. 

XXII.  Let  the  teacher  bring  a  selection  and  read  it  to  the 
class  for  reproduction. 

XXIII.  Read  from  a  periodical  or  other  paper  by  passing 
it  from  one  to  another,  if  there  be  but  one  copy. 

Note. — This  makes  intelligent  readers,  as  all  must  be  made 
to  understand  what  is  read  before  a  reader  is  excused. 

XXIV.  Let  the  teacher  read,  making  errors  for  the  clasi 
to  observe  and  criticise. 

XXV.  Reading  high  and  low  in  contrast. 

XXVI.  Reading  fast  and  slow  in  contrast. 

Note.—  Read  alternate  lines  in  the  XXVth,  and,  by  alter- 
nation, one  line  slow  and  two  or  three  lines  fast  in  the 
XXVIth.  The  former  increases  the  compass  of  voice,  and 
the  latter  helps  regulate  the  speed  of  speech. 


86  MANUAL    OF   BEADING. 

in.  reviews.  (See  Table  24.) 
The  review  should  begin  by  a  careful  description  of  the 
selections  which  have  been  read.  First,  the  form,  subject, 
or  thought,  objects,  incidents,  definitions,  with  the  moral  or 
personal  application.  Second,  the  errors  committed  by  the 
pupils  with  regard  to  their  reading  position,  articulation, 
pronunciation,  phonic  spelling,  definitions,  technical  and  re- 
ceived meaning  of  words,  and  elocution  in  general. 

There  are  various  ways  of  conducting  the  review,  a  few 
of  which  will  be  explained  in  this  chapter.  First  method. 
Call  on  pupils,  one  by  one,  to  give  as  full  a  review  of  all  the 
items  and  errors  named  above  as  possible,  independent  of  all 
prompting  or  questioning.  Second  method  (adapted  to  large 
classes  or  short  recitations).  Divide  the  items  under  the  head 
of  review,  and  assign  a  portion  to  each  pupil  in  class :  ex.  gr. 
In  this  review,  A  may  talk  of  the  form  of  the  composition 
(see  Table  24) ;  B,  of  the  subject  or  thought ;  C,  of  the  class 
of  poetry  (whether  epic,  lyric,  or  dramatic) ;  D,  of  the  ob- 
jects (whether  natural  or  artificial,  etc.) ;  E,  of  the  inci- 
dents narrated ;  and  F,  of  the  errors  of  the  class,  and  so  on. 
After  these  subjects  have  been  given,  call  upon  A,  and  re- 
quire a  complete  and  uninterrupted  explanation  of  the  sub- 
ject. Ask  no  question,  and  allow  no  prompting  until  the 
pupil  has  finished  and  seated  himself,  or  until  the  entire  re- 
view is  formally  ended. 

IV.    A   LINE,  COUPLET,  OR   STANZA   TO   MEMORIZE. 

The  advantage  of  this  exercise  is  not  easily  calculated.  It 
stores  the  minds  of  pupils  with  the  best  thoughts  of  the 
best  authors,  expressed  in  choicest  language.  It  is  a  source 
of  enjoyment  and  means  of  entertainment  during  life.  It 
creates  a  taste  for  a  high  order  of  literature,  and  inspires 
the  young  to  seek  noble  companionship  and  to  pursue  lofty 
ambitions. 

As  you  value  truth  and  beauty,  do  not  neglect  this  exer- 
cise. Choose  judiciously,  and  give  but  a  few  lines  each  day, 
and  the  result  will  amply  reward  you. 

Those  poems  or  selections  best  calculated  to  answer  this 


ADVANCED  CLASS  METHODS.  87 

purpose  are  pure  in  tone  and  replete  with  reflections,  inci- 
dents, or  examples  of  the  cardinal  virtues,  faith,  hope,  pa- 
tience, courage,  generosity,  gratitude,  etc.,  etc.* 

Suit  the  selections  to  the  capacity  of  the  learners  by  all 
means,  for  one  is  heartily  tired  of  hearing  Cato's  or  Ham- 
let's Soliloquy  from  children  seven  or  eight  years  old.  The 
fault  with  two  thirds  of  school  exhibitions,  rehearsals,  am\ 
even  higher  literary  entertainments,  is  that  the  actors  and 
speakers  affect  pieces  or  themes  beyond  their  comprehen- 
sion. There  are  high-toned  selections  suited  to  every  un- 
derstanding, if  but  found  in  time,  and  treasured  up  for  occa- 
sions of  need,  f 

;        V.    EXAMINATION   OP   THE    ADVANCE   LESSON. 

The  lesson  to  be  read  at  the  next  recitation  should  be 
examined  and  the  difficulties  removed  before  any  time  is 
wasted  in  erroneous  study.  It  is  certainly  indispensable 
with  young  classes  who  are  unable  to  consult  the  dictionary 
and  reference  books. 

All  the  words  should  be  properly  pronounced  before  they 
are  committed. 

Older  classes  should  be  directed  where  to  look  for  informa- 
tion desired,  and  thus  be  materially  assisted  without  break- 
ing the  spirit  of  the  first  "Rule  for  Teachers" — "Never  tell 
a  pupil  what  he  can  discover  for  himself."  (Primary  Meth- 
ods, page  QQ.) 

*  According  to  the  ancients,  the  cardinal  virtues  are  prudence,  justice, 
temperance,  and  fortitude. 

t  There  is  a  school  in  New  England  where  for  a  number  of  years  the 
pupils  (over  twelve  years  of  age)  have  been  required  to  commit  forty  lines 
a  day ;  and,  judging  from  the  persons  pursuing  this  course,  it  must  be  ac- 
knowledged a  successful  mental  discipline.  The  lines  should  be  read  only 
once  before  an  effort  be  made  to  recite  them.  This  exercises  the  power  of 
concentration,  and  pupils  trained  to  reproduce  a  composition  from  once  read- 
ing can  readily  give  the  substance  of  a  lecture  or  sermon. 


88 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


rI.  Subject  or 
Thought 


TABLE  NO.  25.    COMPOSITION. 


f  1.  Pastoral. 

2.  Satirical. 

3.  Elegiacal. 

4.  Epigrammatical. 

5.  Philosophical. 

6.  Historical. 

7.  Moral. 

8.  Religious. 
L9.  Seutimeutal 


Hi 

tc.  I 


( A.  Manner  or  form 


B.  Divisions 


Pathetic. 
Patriotic. ' 
Humorous,  etc. 
a.  Letter,  or  Epistle. 


a.  Kinds 


b.  Essay. 

c.  Tract. 

d.  Treatise. 

e.  Lecture. 

f.  Sermon. 
j*.  Address, 
'a.  Sentence. 

b.  Verse. 

c.  Chapter. 

d.  Paragraph. 
Section. 
Blank  verse. 
Rhyme. 


h.  Oration, 
i.    Story, 
j.   Fable. 
k.  Parable. 
1.    Allegory, 
m.  Drama. 


H 


b.  Metre,  or  measure  by 
feet 


.  Lines  or 

Vekses 


c  Divisions 
or  parts 


a.  Dissyllabic 
(common  time) 


b.  Trisyllabic 
(triple  time) 


"a.  as  to  the  per- 


"a.  Trochee  (—  ^y. 

b.  Iambus  (^  — ). 

c.  Spondee  ( ). 

d.  Pyrrhic  (-  -). 

a.  Dactyl  (-  ~  ~). 

b.  Amphibrach  (^  —  ~). 

e.  Anapaest  (y  •*--  — ). 

d.  Amphimacer  (—  ^  —  \ 

e.  Bacchius  (^ ). 

/.  Antibacchius  ( ~). 

a.  Tribrach  (^  ~  w). 

Ji.  Molossus  ( ). 

fa.  Catalectic. 


b.  as  to  length 
by  feet 


Acatalectic. 
Section  of  feet  \  c.  Hypercatalectic  or 
hypermeter. 
"a.  Monometer  (one  ft.). 
b.  Dimeter  (two  ft.). 
e.  Trimeter  (three  ft.). 

d.  Tetrameter  (four  ft.). 

e.  Pentameter  (five  ft.). 
/.  Hexameter  (six  ft.). 
g.  Heptameter(seven  ft.), 

^h.  Octameter  (eight  ft.). 


B.  Manner  or  form 


b.  Couplets  *| 

iQ^tartDif1"^"  Averse, 
e.  Stanzas     J 

\  In  dramatic  poetry. 

(heroic,  hexameter).  Essays,  etc, 


f.  Scenes 
4*.  Acts 
■a.  Epic 


b.  Lyric 


Lc.  Dramatic 


/.  Sonnet. 
g.  Song. 
h.  Epigram. 
i.  Roundelay. 
j.  Madrigal. 


fa.  Ode. 
b.  Hymn. 
I  c.  Psalm. 

d.  Lay. 
I e.  Ballad, 
[a.  Tragedy. 

b.  Comedy. 
I  c.  Tragi-comedy. 
]  d.  Farce. 

e.  Opera  and  Burletta. 
1./.  Melodrama. 


Didactic,  descriptive,  narrative.    See  Note,  page  1. 


ADVANCED   CLASS  METHODS.  89 


LITEEAKY  COMPOSITION.* 

A  composition  is  a  written  or  literary  work,  and  may  be 
prose  or  poetry. 

<  The  subject  or  thought  of  a  composition  may  be  pas'toral, 
satirical,  ele'giacal,  epigrammat'ical/philosoph'ical,  historic- 
al, mor'al,  relig'ious,  sentimental,  etc. 

1.  Pastoral.     Descriptive  of  country  life. 

2.  Satirical.  Exposing  or  censuring  human  weakness  or 
folly ;  full  of  satire  or  invective ;  as,  Byron's  "  English  Bards 
and  Scotch  Reviewers." 

3.  Elegiacal.  Expressive  of  sorrow  or  lamentation ;  fune- 
real, mournful,  pertaining  to  sad  reflection ;  as,  Gray's  "El- 
egy in  a  Country  Church-yard." 

4.  Epigrammatical.  Short  and  witty ;  ending  with  a  turn 
or  point  of  wit,  concise,  poignant. 

5.  Philosophical.  Pertaining  to  or  proceeding  from  phi- 
losophy, physics*,  metaphysics  (natural  or  mental  philosophy, 
psychology,  philology,  etc.). 

6.  Historical.  Pertaining  to  that  which  exists  or  has  ex- 
isted ;  containing  history.  Biographical :  a  species  of  his-  , 
torical  writing  which  gives  an  account  of  the  life  and  char- 
acter of  some  particular  person  ;  when  such  an  account  has 
been  written  by  the  person  in  question,  it  is  called  autobio- 
graphical. 

7.  Moral.  Relating  to  duty  or  obligation ;  pertaining  to 
the  conduct  or  manners  of  men,  as  social  beings,  in  relation 
to  each  other  as  respects  right  and  wrong ;  not  depending 
on  human  laws,  bi\t  conscience. 

8.  Religious.     Teaching  or  setting  forth  religion. 

*  Composition  is  sometimes  called  didactic — giving  instruction,  teaching ; 
sometimes  descriptive — having  the  quality  of  representing,  describing;  and 
sometimes  narrative — relating  to  the  particulars  of  an  event  or  transaction  ; 
a  particular  and  continued  account  of  any  thing. 

These  pages  are  added  to  assist  in  reviewing  the  selections.  (See  Class 
Methods,  page  85.) 


90  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

9.  Sentimental.  Abounding  in  sentiments  or  reflections ; 
with  thoughts  prompted  by  passion  or  feeling.  Pathetic, 
patriotic,  and  humorous  productions  belong  to  this  class. 

(a.)  Pathetic.  Affecting  or  moving  the  tender  emotions, 
as  grief,  pity. 

(b.)  Patriotic.  Actuated  or  prompted  by  the  love  of  one's 
country. 

(c.)  Humorous.  Full  of  humor;  playful;  exciting  laugh- 
ter. 

PROSE. 

Prose  is  discourse  or  composition  not  metrical;  i.  &,  not 
in  verse,  or  without  poetic  measure. 

I.  Form  or  Manner. 
In  form  or  manner  it  may  be  a  letter  or  epistle,  an  essay, 
tract,  treatise,  lecture,  sermon,  address,  oration,  story,  fable, 
parable,  allegory,  or  drama. 

1.  A  letter  or  epistle  is  a  written  or  printed  message;  a 
short  communication  with  regard  to  friendship,  business, 
science,  or  belles-lettres.* 

2.  An  essay  is  a  short  composition  or  informal  treatise 
upon  any  particular  subject ;  as,  Bacon's  "  Essays." 

3.  A  tract  is  a  short  written  or  printed  discourse  or  treat- 
ise, usually  on  practical  religion ;  as,  "  A  Call  to  Prayer." 

4.  A  treatise  is  a  composition  explaining  or  discussing  any 
particular  subject,  and  is  longer,  more  studied,  and  method- 
ical than  an  essay ;  as,  Wilson's  "  Treatise  on  Punctuation." 

5.  A  lecture  is  a  formal  or  methodical  discourse  upon  any 
subject  (moral,  social,  scientific,  philosophical,  etc.),  and  is 
intended  for  instruction ;  as,  "  Lectures  on  Anatomy." 

6.  A  sermon  is  a  religious  discourse,  to  be  delivered  from 
the  pulpit  or  to  a  congregation;  as,  Christ's  "Sermon  on  the 
Moubt." 

*  Letters  of  friendship  include  those  of  condolence,  congratulation,  in- 
quiry, explanation,  advice,  etc.  Letters  of  business  and  law  are  letters  of 
administration,  of  attorney,  of  credit,  of  license,  of  marque,  of  marque  and 
reprisal,  letters  close,  letters  patent,  overt,  or  open,  etc.  (See  Quarto  Dic- 
tionary.) - 


ADVANCED   CLASS  METHODS.  91 

7.  An  address  is  a  formal  speech  or  message  of  respect, 
congratulation,  thanks,  petition,  etc.;  as,  Lincoln's  "Inaugu- 
ral Address." 

8.  An  oration  is  an  elaborate  discourse  or  speech  in  writ- 
ing which  has  been  spoken,  or  is  proposed  to  be  spoken  on 
some  special  occasion,  as  a  funeral,  celebration,  or  anniver- 
sary; as,  Antony's  "Oration  over  the  Body  of  Caesar,"  Web- 
ster's "  Oration  at  the  Laying  of  the  Corner-stone  of  Bunker 
Hill  Monument." 

9.  A  story  is  a  narrative  or  recital,  and  more  especially  a 
fictitious  narrative,  less  elaborate  than  a  novel ;  as,  "  The 
Story  of  Ruth." 

10.  A  fable  is  a  fictitious  story  or  tale  intended  to  enforce 
some  useful  truth  or  precept ;  as,  "The  Fable  of  the  Fox  and 
the  Grapes" 

11.  A  parable  is  a  fable  of  something  in  real  life  or  nature 
from  which  a  moral  i$  drawn  for  instruction ;  as,  "The  Par- 
able of  the  Vineyard,"  "The  Parable  of  the  Tares." 

12.  An  allegory  is  a  figurative  application  of  real  facts ;  a 
sentence  or  discourse  in  which  the  principal  subject  is  de- 
scribed by  another  subject  resembling  it  in  its  qualities, 
properties,  and  circumstances ;  as,  Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress."* 

II.  Divisiojis. 
The  divisions  of  prose  composition  are  sentences,  verses, 
chapters,  paragraphs,  sections,  etc. 

1.  A  sentence  is  an  assemblage  of  words  logically  and 
grammatically  joined  so  as  to  make  complete  sense;  as, 
"Insincerity  is  very  troublesome  to  manage." — Tillotson. 

2.  A  verfce,  in  prose,  is  a  short  division  of  composition,'  as 
a  verse  in  the  Bible.  "  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they 
shall  obtain  mercy." — Matt,  v.,  1. 

3.  A  chapter  is  a  division  of  a  book  or  treatise,  as  a  chap- 
ter in  the  Bible. 

4.  A  paragraph  is  a  distinct  part  of  a  discourse  or  chapter, 

*  A  parable  must  be  literally  possible,  while  an  allegory  may  not.  The 
story  of  the  vineyard  could  be  literally  true,  but  when  Christ  says,  "I  am 
the  vine,"  the  expression  is  allegorical. 


92  MANUAL   OF  BEADING. 

relating  to  a  particular  subject,  and  comprises  one  or  more 
sentences.  It  is  indicated  by  a  break  in  the  text,  or  the 
commencement  of  a  new  line  begun  farther  from  the  margin 
than  the  other  lines,  and  formally  by  the  sign  (%)  placed  at 
or  before  it. 

5.  A  section  is  a  distinct  portion  of  a  book,  writing,  or  dis- 
course, and  may  be  more  or  less  than  a  chapter. 

POETRY. 

Poetry  is  metrical  composition  "  produced  and  embellished 
more  or  less  by  a  creative  imagination,  the  end  of  which  is 
to  afford  intellectual  pleasure  by  exciting  elevated,  agreea- 
ble, or  pathetic  emotions." — Worcester. 

In  its  accepted  sense/poetry  may  be  blank  verse  or  rhyme. 

1 .  Blank  verse  is  metrical  composition  without  rhyme.  It 
is  usually  the  heroic  verse  of  five  feet  without  rhyme. 

Example ; 

1 '  From  the  vale 
v    Of  cold  oblivion  comes  the  breathing  throng 
Up  to  the  paths  of  life,  and,  one  by  one, 
Strive  to  unravel  with  their  feeble  hands 
Existence'  tangled  knot,  but  find  no  clew, 
And,  wearied  with  the  fruitless  toil,  sink  back, 
And  darkness  closes  o'er  them. " — Mrs.  Arey. 

2.  Rhyme  is  the  correspondence  of  sound  in  the  last  sylla* 
ble  or  syllables  of  two  lines  or  verses  of  poetry,  in  immediate 
succession  or  close  proximity.  Poetry  possessing  such  ter- 
minal sound  is  called  rhyme. 

Rhymes  may  consist  of  single  syllables,  as  blind,  find; 
of  two  syllables,  as  sound' ing,  bound' ing  ;  of  three  sylla- 
bles, as  beau'teous,  du'teous ;  of  four  syllables,  as  quiv'er- 
ingly,  shiv'eringly* 

Example  of  successive  Rhyme: 

"The  smile  is  the  bud  of  the  full-blown  laughter, 
The  bud  comes  first  and  the  bloom  comes  after ; 
Down  in  the  heart  there's  a  genius  lingers, 
With  feathery  ends  to  his  tickling  fingers." — Ganyard. 

*  To  constitute  rhyme,  the  vowels,  or,  in  case  of  double  rhymes,  the  ac- 
cented vowels,  must  be  identical,  and  so  must  the  sounds  following  these 
vowels,  but  the  consonants  preceding'  them  in  the  same  syllable  must  be 
different. 


ADVANCED   CLASS   METHODS.  93 

Example  of  alternate  Rhyme : 

"  The  twilight  hours  like  birds  flew  by, 
As  lightly  and  as  free ; 
Ten  thousand  stars  were  in  the  sky, 

Ten  thousand  in  the  sea ; 
And  every  wave  with  dimpled  face 

That  leaped  up  in  ftie  air, 
Had  caught  a  star  in  its  embrace, 
And  held  it  trembling  there." — Clark. 

Example  of  irregular  Rhyme : 

"And  brushing  ankle-deep  in  flowers, 
He  heard  behind  the  woodbine  veil 
The  milk  that  bubbled  in  the  pail, 
And  buzzing  of  the  honeyed  hours." — Tennyson. 

Versification  {Metre  or  Measure). 

-Versification  is  the  art  of  constructing  metrical  composi- 
tion, or  poetry.  This  art  lies  in  the  harmonious  arrange- 
ment of  a  certain  number  of  long  and  short,  or  of  accented 
and  unaccented  syllables. 

The  Greeks  and  Romans  based  their  versification  chiefly 
upon  quantity.  In  their  language,  the  length  and  brevity 
of  syllables  were  so  fixed  and  uniform  in  pronunciation  that 
one  long  syllable  was  equal  to  two  short  ones.  This  gave 
license  to  as  many  as  seventeen,  and  to  no  less  than  thirteen 
syllables  in  a  line  of  hexameter,  which,  in  musical  time,  was 
equal  to  twelve  long  syllables.  In  order  to  ascertain  the 
exact  time  of  verse,  and  the  proper  combinations  of  long 
and  short  quantities  or  syllables,  a  metre  or  measure  was 
instituted,  called  a  metrical  foot.  A  line  of  hexameter  must 
contain  six  of  these  feet.     (See  Epic  Ver«e,  p.  97.) 

Modern  poetry  is  measured  by  time  and  accentuation, 
which  produce  greater  rhythmical  effect  than  did  the  quan- 
tity in  the  Greek  and  Latin. 

Metrical  feet  were  dissyllabic  or  trisyllabic  divisions  of  a 
line  of  poetry.  A  dissyllabic  division  consists  of  two  sylla- 
bles or  their  equivalent,  the  time  being  quadruple.  A  tri- 
syllabic division  consists  of  three  syllables  or  their  equiva- 
lent, the  time  being  triple. 

There  are-  four  species  of  dissyllabic  feet,  namely — 

1.  Trochee,  the  first  syllable  accented;  as,  heed'Icss. 


94  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

2.  Iambus,  the  second  syllable  accented ;  as,  inspiEEf. 

3.  Spondee,  both  syllables  accented ;  as,  a 'men'. 

4.  Pyrrhic,  both  syllables  unaccented ;  as,  ible,  in  risible. 
There  are  eight  species  of  trisyllabic  feet,  namely — 

1.  Dactyl,  the  first  syllable  accented;  as,  ciiEEK'fully. 

2.  Amphibrach,  the  second  syllable  accented ;  as,  reLuc'- 
tant. 

3.  Anapaest,  the  third  syllable  accented ;  as,  imporTUNE'. 

4.  Amphimacer,  with  the  accent  on  the  first  and  third 
syllables ;  as,  constant  love'. 

5.  Bacchius,  with  the  accent  on  the  second  and  third  syl- 
lables; as,  the  man'-child'. 

6.  Antibacchius,  with  the  accent  on  the  first  and  second 
syllables ;  as,  STRONG'MiND'ed. 

7.  Tribrach,  three  equal  and  unaccented  syllables. 

8.  Molossus,  three    equal    and    accented    syllables ;    as, 

FAITH,  HOPE,  LOVE. 

It  is  no  easy  task  to  find  English  examples  of  these  Greek 
and  Latin  feet.  The  pyrrhic  and  tribrach  can  not  be  prop- 
erly represented.  The  most  common  of  these  species  are 
the  trochee,  iambus,  anapaest,  and  dactyl. 

C  Trochee.)        Tell'  me  |  not'  in  |  mourn'M  |  NUM'bers,  | 
"Life'  is  |  but'  an  |  EMp'ty  |  dream'  !" 
For'  the  |  soul'  is  |  dead'  that  |  SLUM'bers,  | 
And'  things  |  are'  not  |  what'  they  |  seem'. 

Longfellow. 
Clambus.)  When  free'] dom  from'  |  her  Mountain  height'  | 
UnFURL'cT  |  her  stand' |ard  to'  |  the  air',  | 
She  tore'  I  the  Az'jure  robe'  |  of  night',  | 
And  set'  J  the  stars'  |  of  GLo'|ry  there'.  |  — Drake. 

(Anajpcest.)  'Tis  the  last'  |  rose  of  suM'|mer,  left  BLOOM'|ing  aLONE';  | 
All  her  LOVE'|ly  comPAN'|ions  are  FA'|ded  and  gone';  | 
No  flower'  I  of  her  KiN'|dred,  no  ROSE'|bud  is  nigh',  | 
To  reFLECT'  |  back  her  blush' |es,  or  give'  |  sigh  for  sigh'.  | 

Moore. 
{Dactyl.)  Bird'  of  the  |  wiL'derness,  |  j 

BLiTHE'some  and  |  cuM'berless,  | 
Sweet'  be  thy  |  MA'tin  o'er  |  MOOR'land  and  |  lea'  ! 
EM'blem  of  |  «Ap'piness,  | 
Blest'  is  thy  |  dwell' ing-place :  | 
O'  to  aJBiDE'  in  the  I  DEs'ert  with  |  thee'  ! — James  Hogg. 


ADVANCED   CLASS   METHODS.  95 

Metrical  Feet. 

(T     ,     .   (TRo'chee  |  trips'  from  |  long'  to  |  short  ; 
V    roc  ee.)  <^rom  jong  to  iong  m  soiemn  sort. 

(Spondee.)     Slow'  Spon'|dee'  stalks';  |    strong'  foot'  !  |  yet  ill  abla 
(Dactyl.)       Ev'er  to  |  come'  up  with  |  DAc'tyl  tri|sYL'lable. 
(Iambic.)       jAM'|bics  march'  |  from  short'  |  to  long',  | 
(Anapcests.)  With  a  leap'  |  and  a  bound'  |  the  swift  Anapaests  throng'.  | 
(Am.ph.i-       (One  SYL'la]ble  long',  with  |  one  short'  at  |  each  side', 
brack.)        (AmPHi'brach|ys  hastes'  with  |  a  STATE'ly  |  stride. 

1  First  and  last  |  BE'ing  long',  |  MiD'dle  short'  |  AM'phiMA'-l 
cer, 
Strikes'  his  THUN'|DER'ing  hoofs'  |  like'  a  proud'  |  high'- 
bred  RA'|cer. — Coleridge. 

Divisions  of  Verse. 

The  divisions  common  to  verse  are  lines  or  verses,  coup- 
lets, triplets,  quatrains,  and  stanzas,  in  epic  or  lyric  poetry ; 
acts  and  scenes  in  dramatic  poetry. 

A  line  or  verse  of  poetry  consists  of  a  certain  arrange- 
ment of  long  and  short,  or  accented  and  unaccented  sylla- 
bles, according  to  established  rules;  a  measured  line  of 
poetry,  as, 

"  Idleness  ever  despaireth,  bewaileth." — Osgood. 
In  scanning,  or  applying  the  measure  of  feet  to  a  verse, 
if  a  line  is  found  wanting  a  syllable,  it  is  said  to  be  cata- 
lectic  ;  if  the  number  of  syllables  is  exact  and  proper,  acat- 
alectic  ;  if  redundant  in  syllables,  hypercatalectic  or  hyper- 
meter. 
(Catalectic.)  Slack'en  not  |  sail'  yet,  at  |  in'let  or  |  isl'and;  | 

Straight'  for  the  |  bea'con  steer,  |  straight'  for  the  |  highland.  | 

Mrs.  Southey. 
(Acatalectic.)  Thy  sports'  |  are  fled,'  |  and  all'  |  thy  charms'  |  withdrawn'.  | 

s  Goldsmith. 

(Hypercatalectic.)  Full  ma'|ny  a  gem'  |  of  pur' | est  ray'  |  serene,'  | 

The  dark,'  |  unfath'|omed  caves'  |  of  o'jcean  bear'.  | 

Gray. 

A  line  of  poetry  is  also  known  by  the  number  of  feet  it 
contains.  A  line  of  one  foot  is  called  monometer;  of  two, 
dimeter ;  of  three,  trimeter ;  of  four,  tetrameter ;  of  five, 
pentameter  ;  of  six,  hexameter ;  and  of  eight,  octameter. 


96  MANUAL   OF  BEADING, 

(Monometer.)  "There  we  go, 

To  and  fro, 
With  our  knacks 
At  our  backs." — Chalkhill. 

(Dimeter.)  "Alas!  for  the  |  rarity 

Of  Christian  |  charity 
Under  the  sun  !" — Hood. 

(  Trimeter.)  "  Thou  high  |  and  ho]ly  One,  | 

Whose  care  |  for  sire  |  and  son  | 

All  nature  fills — 
While  day  |  shall  break  |  and  close,  | 
While  night  |  her  cres|cent  shows,  | 
O  let  |  Thy  light  |  repose  | 

On  these  our  hills !" — Pierpont. 

(Tetrameter.)  "Labor  is  |  rest  from  the  |  sorrows  that  |  greet  us ;  | 
Rest  from  all  |  petty  vex|ations  that  |  greet  us ;  | 
Rest  from  sin-  |  promptings  that  |  ever  en  |  treat  us ;  | 
Rest  from  world  |  sirens  that  |  lure  us  to  |  ill." — Osgood. 
(Pentameter.)  "What  stronger  breast-]plate  than  |  a  heart  |  untainted." 

Shakspeare. 
(Hexameter.)  "I  wan|der  with  |  the  waves,  |  and  with  |  them  rise  |  and  fall."  | 

Whittier. 
(Heptameter.)  "  Now  glo]ry  to  |  the  Lord  |  of  Hosts,  |  from  whom  |  all  glo-] 
ries  are."  | — Macaulay. 

(Octameter.)  "Hear  the  |  bells  from  |  bluff  and  |  prairie,  |  through  the  |  hush 
of  |  Sabbath  |  air."— E.  D.  Proctor. 

A  couplet  consists  of  two  lines  of  rhyme. 

"Keep  cool ;  don't  strive  for  sudden  wealth  too  fast ; 
Fortunes  quick  made  are  seldom  known  to  last." — S.  A.  Dix. 

A  triplet  consists  of  three  lines  or  verses  rhyming  together. 
"  Up  from  the  earth  curled  leaves  were  coming, 
Bees  in  the  morning  sunshine  humming, 
Away  in  the  woods  the  partridge  drumming." — Alice  Carey. 

A  quatrain  consists  of  four  lines  of  poetry  with  alternate 
rhyme  (the  first  line  rhyming  with  the  third,  and  the  second 
with  the  fourth),  and  sometimes  mixed  rhyme  (the  first  rhym- 
ing with  the  fourth,  and  the  second  with  the  third). 

Alternate-rhymed  Quatrains : 
1 '  Be  kind  when  you  can  in  the  smallest  of  duties  ; 
Don't  wait  for  the  larger  expressions  of  love, 
For  the  heart  depends  less,  for  its  joys  and  its  beauties, 

On  the  flight  of  the  eagle  than  coo  of  the  dove." — Eliza  Cook. 


ADVANCED   CLASS   METHODS.  97 

A  stanza  is  a  distinct  division  of  poetry,  composed  of  r. 
certain  number  of  adjusted  verses  or  lines,  as 

"When  ranting  round  in  pleasure's  ring, 

Religion  may  be  blinded ; 
Or,  if  she  gie  a  random  sting, 

It  may  be  little  minded  ; 
But  when  on  life  we're  tempest-driven, 

A  conscience  but  a  canker, 
A  correspondence  fixed  wi'  heaven 

Is  sure  a  noble  anchor." — Burns. 

Form  or  Manner. 
As  to  form  or  manner,  all  poetry  is  epic,  lyric,  or  dramatic. 

Epic  poetry  is  of  the  narrative  kind,  and  details  external 
circumstances  and  events.  It  is  sometimes  called  heroic 
verse,  because  it  is  used  in  narrating  heroic  actions  and  ex- 
ploits. 

In  English,  German,  and  Italian,  this  verse  is  iambic  often 
syllables  (five  feet) ;  in  French  it  is  iambic  of  twelve  sylla- 
bles (six  feet) ;  and  in  classic  poetry  it  is  hexameter,  or  verse 
consisting  of  six  feet,  equivalent  to  twelve  syllables.  Iambic 
of  twelve  syllables  is  also  called  Alexandrine,  from  an  old 
poem  written  in  French  on  the  life  of  Alexander.  The  first 
four  feet  in  a  line  of  heroic  or  hexameter  may  be  dactyls 
or  spondees ;  the  fifth  must  be  a  dactyl,  and  the  sixth  a 
spondee. " 

"A  needless  Alexandrine  ends  the  song, 

That,  like  a  wounded  snake,  drags  its  slow  length  along. " — Pope. 
"  Where  men  of  judgment  creep  and  feel  their  way, 
The  positive  pronounce  without  delay ; 
Without  the  means  of  knowing  right  from  wrong, 
They  always  are  decisive,  clear,  and  strong."— CowrER. 

Lyric  poetry  expresses  internal  emotions  and  thoughts, 
and  was  originally  confined  to  such  verse  as  was  sung,  or 
adapted  to  musical  recitation,  accompanied  by  the  lyre  or 
harp. 

There  are  a  variety  of  lyric  compositions,  differing  some- 
what in  their  uses,  length,  etc.     The  most  prominent  are 

E 


98  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

the  ode,  hymn,  psalm,  lay,  ballad,  sonnet,  song,  epigram,  and 
roundelay. 

1.  An  ode  is  a  short  song  or  poem.  In  the  modern  sense 
of  the  word,  "the  ode  appears  to  be  distinguished  by  greater 
length  and  variety,  and  by  not  being  necessarily  adapted  to 
music.  It  is  distinguished  from  the  ballad  and  other  species 
of  lyric  poetry  by  being  confined  to  the  expression  of  senti- 
ment or  of  imaginative  thought  on  a  subject  not  admitting 
of  narrative  except  incidentally." — Brande.  As,  Collins's 
"  Ode  on  the  Passions." 

Odes  are  sacred,  as  in  hymns  and  psalms ;  heroic,  when 
praising  heroes,  martial  exploits,  or  heroic  deeds ;  moral  and 
philosophical,  as  in  odes  on  virtue,  friendship,  or  humanity. 

2.  A  hymn  is  a  song  of  praise,  adoration,  or  thanksgiving ; 
as, Milton's  "Hymn  on  the  Nativity." 

3.  A  psalm  is  a  sacred  or  holy  song ;  a  poem  for  praise  or 
worship  to  God ;  as,  the  Psalms  of  David. 

4.  A  lay  is  an  ancient  elegiac  kind  of  French  lyric  poetry; 
a  species  of  narrative  poetry  among  the  ancient  minstrels; 
as,  "The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  by  Scott. 

5.  A  ballad  is  a  popular  narrative  song,  often  of  a  senti- 
mental kind,  written  in  simple, homely  verse;  as,  "The  Bal- 
lad of  the  Hours,"  by  Longfellow. 

6.  A  sonnet  is  a  short  poem — especially  a  short  poem 
consisting  of  fourteen  lines,  comprising  two  quatrains  and 
two  tercets,  the  lines  being  adjusted  by  a  particular  rule; 
as,  Shakspeare's  Sonnets. 

7.  A  song  is  a  short  poem  fitted  to  be  sung ;  as,  Byron's 
"Song  of  the  Greek  Poet." 

8.  "An  epigram  is  a  short  poem  treating  only  of  one 
thing,  and  ending  with  some  lively,  ingenious,  and  natural 
thought.  Epigrams  were  originally  inscriptions  on  tombs, 
statues,  temples,  triumphal  arches,  etc." — Webster. 

9.  "A  roundelay  is  an  ancient  poem  consisting  of  thirteen 
verses,  of  which  eight  are  in  one  kind  of  rhyme  and  five  in 
another.  It  is  divided  into  couplets,  at  the  end  of  the  sec- 
ond and  third  of  which  the  beginning  of  the  poem  is  repeat- 
ed, and  that,  if  possible,  in  an  equivocal  or  punning  sense." 
— Webster. 


ADVANCED    CLASS   METHODS.  99 

10.  "A  madrigal  is  a  little  amorous  poem,  sometimes  called 
a  pastoral  poem,  not  confined  to  the  scrupulous  regularity  of 
a  sonnet  or  the  subtlety  of  the  epigram,  but  containing  some 
tender  and  delicate,  though  simple  thought." — Webster. 

Dramatic  composition  is  that  form  or  manner  of  poetry 
which  is  adapted  to  scenic  representation.  The  species  of 
this  kind  of  composition  are  tragedy,  comedy,  tragi-comedy, 
farce,  opera,  burletta,  and  melodrama. 

1.  Tragedy  represents  the  virtues,  crimes,  and  sufferings 
of  human  beings  in  such  a  manner  as  to  excite  pity,  indig- 
nation, grief,  or  horror;  as,  Shakspeare's  "Julius  Caesar," 
Otway's  "  Venice  Preserved." 

2.  Comedy  represents  the  humors,  follies,  or  pleasures  of 
mankind ;  as,  Shakspeare's  "  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 

3.  Tragi-comedy  is  a  representation  of  mingled  tragedy 
and  comedy;  as,  Shakspeare's  "Much  Ado  about  Nothing." 

4.  Farce  is  a  brief  dramatic  representation  of  ludicrous 
qualities  highly  exaggerated.  It  frequently  consists  of  one 
or  two  acts,  and  never  more  than  three.  "  Farce  is  that  in 
poetry  which  grotesque  is  in  a  picture." — Dryden. 

5.  Opera  is  the  words  of  a  musical  drama.  It  consists  of 
airs,  choruses,  etc.,  accompanied  with  instruments,  and  en- 
riched with  magnificent  scenery  and  other  decorations,  to 
represent  some  passionate  action ;  as,  "  II  Trovatore." 

6.  Burletta  is  a  comic  or  farcical  opera ;  as,  "  Hiawatha" 
(an  operatic  burlesque  on  the  poem  by  that  name). 

7.  Melodrama  is  a  drama  "in  which  songs  are  intermixed, 
and  effect  is  sought  by  startling,  exaggerated,  or  unnatural 
sentiment  or  situation." — Webster. 

A  full  dramatic  composition  (a  drama,  opera,  or  the  like) 
is  divided  into  five  parts,  each  of  which  is  called  an  act. 
These  acts  are  subdivided  into  parts  called  scenes. 

A  scene  "is  so  much  of  a  play  as  passes  without  change  of 
locality  or  time,  or  important  change  of  character;  a  subdi- 
vision of  an  act." — Webster. 

An  act  is  "  one  of  the  larger  or  principal  divisions  of  a 
play  or  other  dramatic  work,  in  which  a  certain  definite 
part  of  the  action  is  comnleted." — Webster. 


100 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


TABULAR  VIEW,  NO.  26.    GESTURE.* 


fl.  Feet 


2.  Head  < 


3.  Eyes    - 


Obbtube* 


Special*  - 


f  I.  Position  "'l 

II.  Motion 
,  III.  Manner    >of 

IV.  Direction 
I  etc.       J 


1.  Parrying. 

2.  Thrusting. 

3.  Aiming. 

4.  Striking. 

5.  Waving. 

6.  Mowing. 

7.  Beckoning. 

8.  Repressing. 

9.  Advancing. 

10.  Springing. 

11.  Pressing. 

12.  Retracting. 

13.  Rejecting. 

14.  Bending. 

15.  Shaking. 

16.  Throwing. 
IT.  Sweep. 
18.  Flourish, 

etc. 


Std.  Standing  {MmtTr^or  Gymnaeiurn. 
'a.  Advance. 

r.  Retire. 

tr.  Traverse. 
Stp.  Stepping  \  c.  Cross. 

st.  Start. 

sp.  Stamp. 

jsk.  Shock. 
^Kn.  Kneeling.  " 
rE.  Erect. 
I.  Inclined. 
S.  Aside. 
As.  Assenting. 
De.  Denying. 
Sh.  Shaking. 
Ts.  Tossing. 
^D.  Downward.  % 

U.  Upward. 
F.  Forward. 
A.  Averted. 
R.  Around. 
Rl.  Rolling. 
St.  Staring. 
Gl.  Glaring. 
„V.  Vacancy. 

(1.  Descending 
,  Apart  -{  2.  Horizontal 


4.  Arms 


.5.  Hands 


[3.  Ascending 


I  One. 
fBotl* 


Lb.  Combined 


"a.  Apart  ^ 


Palm 


One. 
Botbu 


^Fingers 


b.  Combined 


wrtrK^h-"- 


'c.  Across 
/.  Front 
q.  Oblique 
x.  Extended 
>  b.  BackwardJ 
'en.  Encumbered. 
'  rp.  Reposed. 
km.  Akimbo^ 
s.  Supine 
p.  Prone 
v.  Vertical 
n.  Inward 
■j).  Outward 
n.  Natural 
x.  Extended 
c.  Clenched 
I.  Collected 
i.  Index 
h.  Holding 
io.  Hollow 
g.  Grasping 
m.  Thumb 
'sp.  Clasped.' 
ap.  Applied. 
Id.  Folded. 
cr.  Crossed. 
nu.  Enumerating. 
th.  Touching. 
wr.  Wringing. 
pt.  Patting. 
cp.  Clapping. 
rb.  Rubbing  and 
washing. 
'  Brow. 

Eyes. 

Chin. 

Ear. 

Nose,lips,breast, 
etc. 


*  The  abbreviations  for  gesture  conform  with  those  found  in  other  works,  so  as  to 
avoid  confusion. 


PART  III. 
GESTURE. 

Gesture  is  visible  expression  independent  of  vocality.  In 
oratory  it  includes  posture,  gesticulation,  and  facial  expres- 
sion. By  gesture  the  condition  or  emotion  of  mind,  as  joy, 
sorrow,  pain,  revenge,  hope,  and  despair,  is  plainly  revealed 
and  universally  understood.  It  is  a  voluntary  or  involun- 
tary common  language  ;  voluntary  when  the  outward  signs 
are  subject  to  the  will,  and  involuntary  when  unassisted  or 
uncontrolled  by  the  will. 

1.  Posture  may  be  defined  as  the  position,  attitude,  or  dis- 
position of  the  human  figure  when  motionless  or  at  rest ;  as 
a  recumbent  attitude,  a  sitting  posture,  a  stooping  position, 
an  attitude  of  defiance. 

2.  Gesticulation  is  the  movement  of  the  body  or  limbs ; 
as  bowing,  pointing,  fencing.  It  includes  speed,  manner,  and 
direction  of  movement. 

The  movement  as  to  speed  may  be  rapid,  moderate,  or 
slow ;  as  to  manner,  direct  or  rotary,  single  or  double ;  and 
as  to  direction,  descending,  horizontal,  or  ascending;  across, 
front,  oblique,  extended,  or  backward. 

The  manner  is  direct  when  the  climax  of  gesture  is  at- 
tained in  a  straight  line,  and  rotary  when  attained  through 
a  curved  line.  It  is  single  when  one  hand  or  arm  is  em- 
ployed in  the  action,  and  double  when  both  are  employed 
in  the  action. 

Feet 
The  movement  of  the  feet  may  be  described  as, 

1.  Advancing — stepping  forward. 

2.  Retiring — stepping  back. 

3.  Traversing — stepping  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  orig- 
inal position. 


l/J'2  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

4.  Starting — suddenly  jumping  up  as  if  frightened. 

5.  Stamping — lifting  and  forcibly  returning  a  foot  to  ths 
floor. 

Head. 

The  head  also  is  expressive  in  position  and  motion : 

1 .  Erect,  it  indicates  dignity,  confidence,  courage,  honor. 

2.  Thrown  back — pride,  vanity,  mirth. 

3.  Inclined  forward — humility,  diffidence,  shame,  grief. 

4.  Inclined  aside — languor,  indifference. 

5.  Assenting  or  nodding — agreement,  consent,  acceptance. 

6.  Denying  or  shaking — dissent,  denial,  disapproval. 

7.  Tossing — disdain,  scorn,  anger. 

Arms. 

The  arms  assume  an  indefinite  number  of  motions  and  po- 
sitions, some  of  which  will  be  fully  described  in  the  article 
"How  to  Explain  Direction"  (page  104).  In  attitudes  of 
repose,  the  arms  are, 

1.  Encumbered  or  folded — inclosing  each  other. 

2.  Reposed — one  arm  lying  over  the  other  at  the  girdle. 

3.  Akimbo — see  cut  4,  p.  28. 

The  special  actions  of  the  arm  are  known  as, 


1.  Parrying. 

7.  Beckoning. 

13. 

Rejecting. 

2.  Thrusting. 

8.  Repressing. 

14. 

Shaking. 

3.  Aiming. 

9.  Advancing. 

15. 

Throwing. 

4.  Striking. 

10.  Springing. 

16. 

Sweep  and 

5.  Waving. 

11.  Pressing. 

Flourish. 

6.  Mowing. 

12.  Retracting. 

Hands. 

There  are  three  principal  positions  of  the  hand  with  re- 
gard to  the  palm,  viz.,  supine,  prone,  and  vertical.  Supine, 
with  the  palm  up  ;  prone,  with  the  palm  down ;  and  vertical, 
with  the  palm  perpendicular.  Besides  these  there  are  in- 
ward, with  the  palm  toward  the  speaker,  and  outward,  with 
the  palm  turned  from  the  speaker  and  the  thumb  downward. 
With  regard  to  the  fingers,  the  hand  is  said  to  be, 
1.  Natural — the  hand  relaxed,  as  when  hanging  at  the  sida 


GESTURE.  1 03 

2.  Extended — with  the  fingers  more  or  less  separated. 

3.  Clenched — with  the  fingers  closed  firmly  in  the  palm. 

4.  Collected  —  finger-ends  all  touching  the  end  of  the 
thumb. 

5.  Index — pointing  with  the  forefinger  while  the  others 
are  closed. 

6.  Holding — the  thumb  and  forefinger  pressed  together. 

7.  Hollow — with  the  palm  up  and  the  fingers  curved. 

8.  Grasping — as  if  seizing  something. 
Combined,  the  hands  are, 

1.  Clasped — fingers  interlaced  and*  closed. 

2.  Applied — palms  and  fingers  laid  together. 

3.  Folded — all  the  fingers  of  one  hand  closed  across  the 
other  between  the  thumb  and  forefinger. 

4.  Crossed — one  hand  laid  across  the  other  flatly,  as  on 
the  breast. 

5.  Enumerating  —  placing  the  index  finger  of  one  hand 
successively  upon  a  finger  or  fingers  of  the  other  hand. 

6.  Touching — the  finger-tips  of  one  hand  lightly  touching 
those  of  the  other. 

7.  Wringing  —  the  hands  clasped,  and  moving  up  and 
down. 

8.  Patting — gently  applying  the  hands  several  times  in 
succession. 

9.  Clapping — joining  the  palms  forcibly  several  times  in 
quick  succession. 

10.  Rubbing — chafing  the  inner  surfaces  of  the  hands  to- 
gether. 

11.  Washing — rubbing  the  hands  within  each  other,  as  if 
washing  or  oiling  them. 

The  hands  are  sometimes  placed  upon  the  person  to  ex- 
press sense,  emotion,  or  reason.  The  hands  are  placed  over 
the  eyes  to  keep  out  the  light  or  to  assist  vision  in  over- 
coming distances  or  darkness.  The  hands  touch  the  closed 
eyes  to  express  blindness  or  weak  vision;  they  cover  the 
eyes  in  shame  and  horrible  delirium ;  are  pressed  upon  the 
head  in  distress,  pain,  and  bewilderment,  and  upon  the  heart 
in  extreme  joy,  tenderness,  and  anxious  expectation.  The 
hand  is  placed  by  the  ear  to  assist  hearing,  strokes  the  chin 


104  MANUAL   OF  READING. 

in  thought,  and  presses  the  mute  lips  to  enjoin  silence  and 
secrecy. 

How  to  Explain  Direction  of  Movement. 

Were  it  possible  to  be  stationed  in  the  centre  of  a  square 
room,  direction  in  gesture,  or  calisthenics,  could  easily  be 
explained.  However,  the  following  may  answer  the  pur- 
pose. Standing  at  the  centre  of  the  room  facing  the*  wall, 
call  attention  to  four  perpendicular  lines  about  you  which 
contain  the  twelve  principal  points  of  direction.  The  first 
line  is  in  front  of  you,  reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  any 
gesture  made  toward  this  line  is  called  front.  The  second 
line,  on  either  side  of  you,  is  the  perpendicular  line  in  eaeh 
corner  of  the  room  formed  by  the  joining  of  the  front  and 
side  walls.  Any  gesture  toward  either  of  these  lines  is 
called  oblique.  The  third  line,  on  either  side  of  you,  is  the 
perpendicular  line  extending  from  floor  to  ceiling  at  your 
right  hand  and  at  your  left.  Any  gesture  to  the  right  or 
left  of  you  toward  these  lines  is  called  extended  /  and  the 
fourth  and  last  line  is  the  line  on  either  side  formed  by  the 
joining  of  the  back  and  side  walls.  Any  gesture  toward 
these  lines,  or  back  of  the  extended,  is  called  bach  oblique, 
or  backward.  We  have  now  learned  all  the  perpendicular 
lines — one  front,  two  oblique,  two  extended,  and  two  back- 
ward.  Each  of  these  lines  has  three  distinct  points  with 
regard  to  the  degree  of  elevation  from  the  shoulder  at  the 
climax  of  gesture  or  action. 

Any  gesture  which,  at  the  climax,  brings  the  arm  or  hand 
on  a  line  horizontal  with  the  shoulder,  is  called  horizontal; 
below  the  horizontal,  descending  ;  and  above  the  horizontal, 
ascending.  Hence  we  have  three  points  front,  three  oblique, 
three  extended,  and  three  backward,  the  first  in  each  being 
descending,  the  second  horizontal,  and  the  third  ascending. 

There  are  teachers  who  fail  to  obtain  full  statements  from 
their  pupils,  hence  the  following  Review  of  Direction: 

1.  Front.  Any  gesture  made  directly  before  a  person  is 
called  "#front." 

2.  Extended.  Any  gesture  made  directly  to  the  right  or 
left  is  called  "  extended." 


GESTURE.  105 

3.  Oblique.  Any  gesture  made  between  front  and  ex- 
tended is  called  "  oblique." 

4.  Backward.  Any  gesture  made  back  of  the  extended 
is  called  "  backward." 

5.  Descending.  Any  gesture  whose  climax  is  below  the 
horizontal  line  of  the  shoulder  is  called  "  descending." 

6.  Horizontal.  Any  gesture  made  with  the  climax  on  a 
line  with  the  shoulder  is  called  "  horizontal." 

1.  Ascending.  Any  gesture  whose  climax  is  above  the 
horizontal  line  of  the  shoulder  is  called  "ascending." 

How  to  Teach  Declamatory  or  Emphatic  Gesture. 

The  twelve  principal  points  of  direction  being  thoroughly 
understood,  it  may  be  well  to  explain  a  method  of  acquiring 
emphatic  gesture  rapidly.  A  gesture  of  this  kind  must 
first  be  accomplished  in  parts,  then  united,  and  rounded  off 
smoothly  and  gracefully.     The  first  gesture  to  be  made  is, 

I.  Descending  Front.  First  Step. — Assume  the  speak- 
ing, or  rostrum  position ;  bring  the  arm  from  the  side  to 
horizontal  front,  cutting  the  air — i.  e.,  with  the  arm  straight 
and  thumb  uppermost ;  drop  the  hand  to  the  side,  and  repeat 
four  times.  If  the  arm  comes  to  the  side  in  a  stiff,  awkward 
manner,  assume  the  position  again,  and,  when  ready  to  drop 
the  arm,  take  from  it  all  the  will  force,  and  it  will  fall  easily 
to  the  side  of  its  own  weight.  This  is  the  first  step  toward 
one  emphatic  gesture,  and,  when  accomplished  satisfactorily, 
proceed  to  the 

Second  Step. — From  the  horizontal  front  bring  the  hand 
near  the  head  (so  that  the  finger-tips  point  to  the  edge  of 
the  hair  on  the  forehead),  making  a  curve  from  the  elbow  to 
the  finger-tips,  and  keeping  the  arm  well  in  front.  You  are 
now  ready  to  make  the  climax  of  gesture  toward  any  one 
of  the  twelve  points  of  direction.  When  so  much  of  the 
gesture  can  be  accurately  and  rapidly  made,  proceed  to  the 

Third  Step. — Bring  the  hand  to  the  point  called  descend- 
ing front,  with  the  hand  supine  (palm  up) — this  must  be  at 
the  climax  of  gesture — then  drop  the  arm  to  the  side,  and 
you  have  completed  one  entire  gesture.  Repeat  six  or 
eight  times. 

E2 


106  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

II.  Horizontal  Front. — Take  rostrum  position,  raise  the 
hand  and  arm  to  horizontal  front,  and  then  to  the  head,  as 
in  second  step, "  Descending  Front."  When  ready  for  the 
climax  of  action,  throw  the  hand  out  horizontally  front, 
with  the  hand  supine ;  drop  the  hand,  and  you  have  com- 
pleted the  second  entire  gesture. 

III.  Ascending  Front. — Proceed  as  before  to  the  curve, 
and  make  the  climax  by  throwing  the  hand  ascending  front, 
palm  supine  as  before,  dropping  the  hand  easily  to  the  side. 

IV.  Descending  Oblique. — Proceed  as  in  No.  II.,  making 
the  climax  of  gesture  toward  the  point  called  descending 
oblique.  Make  the  remaining  points  of  direction  in  the 
same  manner,  changing  the  climax  of  gesture  to 

V.  Horizontal  Oblique. 

VI.  Ascending  Oblique. 

VII.  Descending  Extended. 

VIII.  Horizontal  Extended. 

IX.  Ascending  Extended. 

X.  Descending  Backward. 

XI.  Horizontal  Backward. 

XII.  Ascending  Backward. 

Thus  far  the  gestures  have  been  angular,  having  three 
pauses  in  each — one  at  the  horizontal  front,  one  at  the  head 
or  curve,  and  one  at  the  climax  of  gesture. 

Explanation  of  Pauses. 

The  first  (or  pause  occurring  at  horizontal  front)  is  at  the 
point  in  the  gesture  where  the  hand  ceases  to  cut  the  air, 
and  is  brought  to  the  supine  more  or  less  gradually;  the 
second  (or  pause  at  the  head)  is  a  halt  in  the  gesture  to  pre- 
pare for  the  utterance  of  the  emphatic  word.  Sometimes  it 
is  necessary  to  wait  while  speaking  several  words  before 
the  word  of  principal  emphasis  occurs.  At  the  instant  when 
the  most  emphatic  word  is  spoken  the  hand  sweeps  to  the 
climax  of  gesture.  Should  the  entire  gesture  occur  on  one 
word,  then  the  gesture  is  continuous  to  the  climax,  and 
sometimes  to  the  position  of  repose. 

Example.  "Away  with  such  a  thought !" 

Here  the  entire  gesture  is  on  the  word  aicay,  and  hence 


GESTURE.  107 

is  made  without  pause  at  the  head,  and  with  an  exceedingly 
short  one  at  the  climax. 

The  pupil  must  omit  the  first  pause  as  soon  as  he  has 
learned  to  turn  the  hand  to  the  supine. 

Beginning  at  the  first  gesture  (descending  front),  make 
no  pause  until  you  arrive  near  the  head  in  the  curve ;  then 
make  the  climax  of  gesture  descending  front.  Repeat  sev- 
eral times. 

Practice  each  gesture  in  this  way  until  it  is  easy  to  omit 
the  first  pause,  and  to  make  a  slight  halt  at  the  climax. 

These  exercises  can  be  accomplished  much  more  easily 
while  counting  thus :  One,  two,  three,  down ;  one,  two, 
three,  down,  etc.  Count  one  at  the  beginning  of  the  ges- 
ture, two  at  the  head,  and  three  at  the  climax,  letting  the 
hand  fall  to  the  side  at  the  word  down.  Make  the  word 
three  emphatic,  thus  constantly  applying  the  rule — "Make 
the  climax  of  gesture  on  the  most  emphatic  word,  and  drop 
the  hand  on  the  next  emphatic  word  following." 

When  practicing  to  omit  the  first  pause,  count  one,  two, 
while  bringing  the  hand  slowly  and  steadily  to  the  head. 
It  is  well  to  practice  this  slowly,  as  there  is  sometimes  great 
strength  expressed  in  carrying  the  arm,  with  the  words, 
steadily  to  a  climax. 

Having  completed  the  lesson  with  the  right  hand,  repeat 
it  with  the  left ;  and  having  mastered  both  singly,  give  them 
simultaneously,  omitting  the  gesture  backward,  as  they  can 
not  be  made  with  the  right  and  left  hand  at  the  same  time. 
All  emphatic  gestures  begin  and  continue  the  same  up  to 
the  curve  near  the  head ;  from  there  the  hand  may  take  any 
one  of  the  points  of  direction,  and  be  supine,  prone,  or  verti- 
cal, as  the  case  demands. 

The  next  lesson  should  be  to  make  the  gestures  with  the 
hands  prone.  First,  make  the  twelve  points  of  direction 
with  the  right  hand  prone,  then  with  the  left  hand  prone, 
and  finally  with  both  hands  prone.  Second,  make  the 
twelve  points  with  the  right  and  then  left  hand  vertical, 
then  both  vertical,  and  this  completes  exclamatory  or  em- 
phatic gesture.  All  other  emphatic  gestures  are  but  modi- 
fications or  variations  of  these.     A  gesture  may  be  made 


108  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

without  approaching  the  head  so  nearly,  making  it  less  em* 
phatic.  It  may  reach  the  climax  in  a  curve  instead  of  a 
straight  line,  which  makes  it  more  graceful,  and  at  the  same 
time  less  forcible,  or  it  may  come  under  the  head  of  special 
gesture,  as  flourishing,  chopping,  etc. ;  still  there  is  an  anal- 
ogy. The  climax  of  the  gesture  must  be  on  the  horizontal 
line  of  the  shoulder,  or  above  or  below  that  line,  and  it  will 
be  also  front,  oblique,  extended,  or  backward. 

FACIAL   EXPRESSION. 

Facial  expression  is  the  language  portrayed  by  the  face. 

The  Brows, 

1.  When  natural,  express  veneration,  tranquillity. 

2.  When  knit,  express  jealousy,  anger,  remorse,  hatred. 

3.  When  elevated,  express  admiration,  wonder,  fear,  ter- 
ror, desire,  joy. 

The  Zips  or  Mouth, 

1.  When  open,  express  mirth,  love,  pity,  desire,  terror,  an- 
ger, fear,  admiration,  wonder,  surprise. 

2.  When  closed  lightly — tranquillity. 

3.  When  compressed — perplexity,  defiance,  hatred,  intense 
scorn. 

4.  When  the  corners  are  drawn  down — pride,  scorn,  con- 
tempt, hatred. 

5.  When  pouting — petulance,  discontent,  boasting. 

6.  When  smiling — approval,  cheerfulness. 

The  Nose, 

1.  When  expanded,  expresses  courage,  anger. 

2.  When  drawn  up  or  wrinkled — disgust,  contempt,  mirth. 

3.  When  contracted — pain,  melancholy,  fear. 

The  Eyes, 

1.  Looking  downward,  express  grief,  perplexity,  diffidence,, 
shame,  humility,  disappointment. 

2.  Upward  or  raised — joy,  delight,  hope,  pride,  admiration. 

3.  Fonvard — determination,  courage. 


GESTURE.  109 

4.  Averted — disgust,  aversion,  listening. 

5.  Around — tranquillity,  satisfaction,  self-complacency. 

6.  Rolling  the  eyes  expresses  despair,  rage,  madness,  jeal- 
ousy. 

*!.  Glaring — madness,  revenge,  distraction,  pain,  rage,  jeal- 
ousy. 

8.  Staring — boasting. 

9.  Vacant — despair. 

10.  Fixed  and  wide — fear,  terror,  despair,  consternation. 

1 1 .  Flashing — malice,  anger 

GENEKAL  RULES  AND  SUGGESTIONS. 

1.  Know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  Commit  the  oration 
or  declamation  thoroughly,  or,  if  the  effort  is  to  be  extempo- 
raneous, master  the  subject  in  all  its  relations  before  attempt- 
ing to  speak  in  public. 

2.  Without  attracting  any  attention,  breathe  deep  and 
long  before  and  while  speaking ;  it  prevents  embarrassment 
and  redness  of  face,  besides  preparing  the  vocal  organs  for 
effort. 

3.  Speak  with  a  view  to  being  heard  by  the  persons  far- 
thest from  you ;  and,  if  the  room  echoes,  speak  slowly. 

4.  Walk  upon  the  platform  with  a  firm,  easy  tread.* 

5.  Stand  with  one  foot  a  little  in  advance  of  the  other,  at 
an  angle  of  45  degrees,  f 

6.  In  advancing  or  retiring,  preserve  the  angle,  whether 
the  step  be  long  or  short. 

7.  Let  the  weight  rest  upon  one  foot,  so  that  the  other  can 
be  moved  at  pleasure. 

8.  In  shifting  the  weight  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  avoid 
losing  height  by  dropping  one  hip. 

9.  In  repose — i.  e.,  when  no  action  is  required — the  hands 
may  (one  or  both)  be  at  the  girdle,  hang  at  the  side,  or  one 

*  Ycung  orators  sometimes  keep  their  usual  gait  until  near  the  desired 
place  upon  the  platform,  then  take  one  long  final  step,  or  two  or  three 
shorter  ones,  as  they  wheel  to  a  speaking  position. 

t  There  seems  to  be  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  number  of  degrees 
which  should  be  formed  by  the  angle  of  the  feet.  Less  than  a  right  angle 
is  preferred  by  many. 


110  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

hand  may  be  placed  upon  the  hip,  with  the  elbow  pressed 
back.  Some  speakers  preserve  the  grace  of  attitude  and 
throw  one  hand  behind  them,  with  the  palm  out.  To  ad- 
here to  any  one  position,  however  graceful,  during  an  entire 
speech,  would  be  in  bad  taste. 

10.  Look  about  you,  over  the  audience,  before  beginning 
to  speak. 

11.  Do  not  bow  abruptly  or  nod  the  head,  but  bend  the 
body  and  head  simultaneously ;  then  step  forward  and  com- 
mence speaking. 

Note. — An  occasion  of  great  ceremony,  as  at  a  formal  con- 
vention or  college  commencement,  requires  a  bow  first  to  the 
presiding  officer.  This  should  be  done  when  going  upon  the 
platform,  and  before  turning  to  the  audience. 

12.  Look  from  manuscript  or  book,  if  one  is  used,  as  much 
as  possible. 

Note. — The  less  a  speaker  confines  his  eyes  to  the  manu- 
script, the  more  eloquent  he  can  be.  While  some  speakers 
confine  themselves  entirely  to  paper,  others  refer  only  to 
the  heads  of  discourse,  or  speak  entirely  from  memory.  It 
is  needless  to  add  that  the  latter  hold  an  audience  much 
better  than  the  former. 

13.  Gesture  should  be  decided,  and  not  weak  and  uncertain. 

14.  When  the  gesture  requires  a  glance,  look  toward  the 
object  of  which  you  speak,  not  after ',  but  before  or  while 
speaking  of  it.  First  the  look,  then  the  action  and  words 
in  quick  succession. 

15.  Make  no  gesture  without  a  reason,  and  avoid  excess 
of  action. 

16.  Make  the  climax  of  gesture  on  the  most  emphatic 
word,  and  let  the  hand  fall  easily  to  the  side  on  the  next  em- 
phatic word  thereafter.  Having  attained  the  climax,  do  not 
shake  the  hand  or  otherwise  emphasize  the  climax,  but  hold 
the  hand  still  until  ready  to  resume  the  position  of  repose. 
Otherwise  the  gesture  is  weakened. 

17.  Do  not  occupy  the  hands  by  twisting  any  article  of 
apparel,  as  the  watch-chain,  coat,  or  dress. 

1 8.  Do  not  thrust  the  hands  into  the  pockets,  or  flourish  a 
handkerchief  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary, 


GESTURE.  Ill 

19.  Do  not  lean  the  weight  upon  a  desk,  chair-back,  or 
other  article  of  furniture. 

20.  Make  no  gesture  when  the  eyes  are  fastened  upon  the 
manuscript  or  book. 

21.  Do  not  walk  to  and  fro  upon  the  platform  like  a  caged 
panther,  sway  backward  or  forward,  toss  or  shake  the  head 
regularly ',  or  make  any  other  monotonous  recurrent  move- 
ment or  gesture. 

22.  Do  not  turn  the  back  to  the  audience  when  speaking, 
but  show  at  least  a  three-quarter's  view  of  the  chest. 

23.  Make  gestures  from  within  outward  as  much  as  is 
consistent  with  the  action  required. 

24.  In  personating  two  characters,  as  in  dialogue,  turn  the 
face  to  the  right  when  one  person  speaks,  and  to  the  left 
when  the  other  speaks.  If  there  be  explanations  by  the  au- 
thor, read  or  speak  them  in  a  lower  tone  of  voice,  with  the 
face  front. 

25.  In  personating  more  than  two  characters,  select  a  style 
of  general  appearance  and  quality  of  voice  for  each,  and  re- 
sume their  respective  signs  when  they  speak. 

26.  The  final  bow  may  be  made  simultaneously  with  a 
short  backward  step  as  you  turn  to  leave  the  platform.  Let 
the  weight  be  carried  with  the  retiring  foot,  so  that  the  oth- 
er be  free  to  move  away. 

Note. — 1st.  Take  the  speaking  position,  and,  without  moving  the  feet, 
bend  steadily  down  until  you  have  counted  four.  Eesume  the  original  up- 
right position  while  counting  four  more. 

2d.  Take  the  gymnasium  position,  and  bow  while  counting,  as  before. 

3d.  Step  back,  and  bow  while  counting  four  or  eight.     See  Rule  No.  26. 

The  first  form  of  bowing  may  very  properly  introduce  a  speech,  and  the 
third  close  the  speech. 


112  MANUAL  OF  BEADING. 


EXAMPLES  FOR  PRACTICE. 

1.  R.  H.  S.,  right  hand  supine.  4.  B.  H.  S.t  both  hands  supine. 

2.  R.H.P.      ♦«        "     prone.  5.  B.  H.  P.     "         "      prone. 

3.  R.H.V.     "        *'     vertical.  6.  B.H.V.     "        «      vertical. 
J)./.  Descending  front.  D.e.  Descending  extended. 
H.f.  Horizontal        "  II.  e.  Horizontal  " 

t       A./.  Ascending        "  A.  e.  Ascending  " 

D.  o.  Descending  oblique.  D.  b,  Descending  backward. 

H.  o.  Horizontal        "  H.b.  Horizontal  M 

A.  o.  Ascending       u  A.  b.  Ascending  " 

lr  R.  H.  S. 
D.f   This  sentiment  I  will  maintain  |  with  the  last  breath  of  life.* 
H.f   I  appeal  |  to  you,  sir,  for  your  de  cis  ion. 

A.f  I  appeal  |  to  the  great  Searcher  of  hearts  for  the  truth  of  what  I 
ut  ter.  *  ' 

D.  o.  Of  all  mistakes,  |  none  are  so  fa  tal  as  those  which  we  incur 
through  prejudice. 

H.  o.  Truth,  honor,  |  jus  tice,  were  his  mo  tives. 

A.  o.  Fix  your  eye  |  on  the  prize  of  a  truly  no  ble  am  hi  tion. 

D.  e.  Away  |  with  an  idea  so  absurd ! 

H.  e.  The  breeze  of  morning  |  wafted  in  cense  on  the  air. 

A.  e.  In  dreams  through  camp  and  court  he  bore  |  the  trophies  of  a 
con  queror.  ^ 

D.  b.  A  way  |  with  an  idea  so  abhorrent  to  humanity ! 

H.  b.  Search  the  records  of  the  remotest  an  ti  quity  for  a  par  allel  to 
this. 
A.  b.  Then  rang  their  proud  hurrah  ! 

2.  R.  H.P. 

D.f.  Put  down  |  the  unworthy  feeling ! 

H.f.  Re  strain  the  unhallowed  pro  pen  sity. 

D.  o.  Let  every  one  who  would  merit  the  Christian  name  |  re  press  | 
such  a  feeling. 

H.  o.  I  charge  you  as  men  and  as  Christians  |  to  lay  a  re  straint  on 
all  such  dispo  si  tions ! 

A.  o.  Ye  gods,  |  with  hold  your  ven  geance ! 

D.  e.   The  hand  of  affection  |  shall  smooth  the  turf  for  your  last  pit  low ! 

H.  e..  The  cloud  of  adver  ]  sity  threw  its  gloom  over  all  his  pros  pects. 

A.  e.  So  darkly  glooms  yon  thunder-cloud  that  swathes  |  as  with  a  pur- 
ple shroud  Benledi's  distant  hill. 


See  Rule  16. 


GESTURE.  113 

3.  K.  H.  V. 
H.f.  Arise !  meet  |  and  re  pel  your  foe  I 
A.f.   For  bid  it,  Almighty  God! 

H.  o.  He  generously  extended  the  arm  of  power  |  to  ward  off  the  blow. 
A .  o.   May  Heaven  a  vert  the  ca  lam  ity  ! 
H.  e.  Out  of  my  sight,  |  thou  serpent ! 
H.  b.  Thou  tempting  fiend,  a  vaunt  ! 

4.  B.H.  S. 

D.  f.  All  personal  feeling  he  de  pos  ited  on  the  al  tar  of  his  country's 
good. 

H.f.  Listen,  I  im  plore  you,  to  the  voice  of  rea  son ! 

A.f.  Hail!  universal  Lord. 

D.  o.  Every  personal  advantage  |  he  sur  ren  dered  to  the  common  good. 

H.  o.  Wel  come  once  more  to  your  early  home  ! 

A.o.  Hail!  holy  Light! 

D.  e.  I  utterly  re  nounce  |  all  the  supposed  advantages  of  such  a  station. 

H.  e.  They  yet  slept  |  in  the  wide  a  byss  of  possi  bil  ity. 

A.  e.  Joy,  joy  |  for  ever  ! 

5.  B.H.  P. 

D.f.  Lie  light  ly  on  him,  earth — his  step  was  light  on  thee. 

H.f.  Now  all  the  blessings  of  a  glad  father  light  on  thee  I 

A.f.  Blessed  be  Thy  name,  O  Lord,  Most  High. 

D.  o.  We  are  in  Thy  sight  |  but  as  the  worms  of  the  dust  ! 

//.  o.  May  the  grace  of  God  |  abide  with  you  for  ever. 

A.  o.  And  let  the  triple  rainbow  rest  |  o'er  all  the  mountain  top*. 

D.  e.  Here  let  the  tumults  of  passion  |  forever  cease  ! 

H.  e.  Spread  wide  a  round  the  heaven-breathing  calm  I 

A.  e.  Heaven  |  opened  wide  her  ever-during  gates. 

6.  B.H.V. 
H.f.  Hence,  hideous  spectre  ! 

A.f.   Avert,  O  God,  the  frown  of  thy  indignation! 

H.  o.  Far  from  our  hearts  be  so  inhuman  a  feeling. 

A .  o.   Let  me  not  |  name  it  to  you,  ye  chaste  stars ! 

H.  e.  And  if  the  night  have  gathered  aught  of  evil  or  concealed,  dis< 
perse  it.  '  '  ' 

A.  e.  Melt  and  dis  pel,  ye  spectre  doubts! 

Note. — Begin  to  raise  the  hand  on  the  dotted  words,  make  the  climas 
of  gesture  on  the  words  in  small  capitals,  and  drop  the  hand  upon  the  syl- 
lables in  italics. 


-14 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


0 

"  1.  Articulation  of  sounds 

(  A.  Organs. 
-{  B.  Functiong, 
(C.  Results. 

"1.  Orthoepy    . 

2.  Enunciation  of  syllables 

J  A.  In  parts. 
IB.  Entire. 

w3.  Pronunciation  of  words. 
1.  Is  termed 

(A.  High. 
-J  B.  Middle. 
( C.  Low. 

II.  Pitch 

/"Unvaried  is 

Monotone. 

(..Varied  is 

(  A.  Inflection. 
-\  B.  Melody. 
(C.  Transition, 

Vocal 

Gymnastics.  " 

'1.  Kinds 

(A.  Soft. 
-J  B.  Middle. 
1 C.  Loud. 

IIL  Force 

2.  Degrees 

(  A.  Effusive. 
<  B.  Expulsive. 
(C.  Explosive. 

^3.  In  application  is 

(A.  Stress. 
-<  B.  Accent. 
(  C.  Emphasis. 

,nr.  Timt      . 

'1.  Quantity  of 

J  A.  Sounds. 
IB.  Rests. 

i 

1 

k2  Movemtnt 

/  A.  Rate. 
i  B.  Rhythm. 

PAET    IV. 
ELOCUTION. 

Reading  is  the  art  of  receiving  or  imparting  ideas  b) 
means  of  written  or  printed  characters.  It  is  silent  or  vo- 
cal, sentential  or  oratorical. 

Sentential  reading  has  regard  to  the  sense  or  thought  of 
the  composition ;  oratorical  reading  expresses  not  only  the 
thought,  but  the  emotion  of  the  thought.  To  this  end  elo- 
cution is  a  means. 

Elocution  is  the  vocal  delivery  of  extemporaneous  or  writ- 
ten composition,  and  includes  vocal  gymnastics  and  gesture.* 

VOCAL   GYMNASTICS. 

Vocal  gymnastics  is  the  science  and  the  art  of  speech. 
It  includes  orthoepy,  pitch,  force,  and  time  in  the  first,  and 
orthophony  in  the  second  portion  of  the  definition.  Science 
teaches  us  to  know,  art  to  do.  Science  is  classified  knowl- 
edge, art  is  the  use  of  classified  knowledge. 

The  science  of  speech  is  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
voice — its  relations,  principles,  and  laws. 

The  art  of  speech  is  the  use  of  these  scientific  facts. 

1.  Orthoepy  treats  of  correct  pronunciation.  It  includes 
articulation,  enunciation,  and  pronunciation. 

2.  Pitch  is  any  degree  of  elevation  or  height.  In  orato- 
ry, pitch  is  the  position  of  voice  upon  the  diatonic  scale. 

3.  Force  is  the  result  of  action.  In  oratory,  force  is  the 
degree  of  intensity  or  energy  with  which  words  or  their 
components  are  uttered. 

4.  Time  is  a  measured  portion  of  duration.  Time  in  ora- 
tory is  the  measure  of  rate  or  speed  of  utterance. 

5.  Orthophony  is  the  training  of  the  vocal  organs  in  or- 
thoepy, pitch,  force,  and  time. 

*  Gesture  is  not  discussed  as  a  science  in  this  Manual,  but  has  been  treat- 
ed with  a  view  to  assist  the  teacher  or  student  in  its  application.  See  Gest- 
ure, p.  101. 


116 


MANUAL   OF  BEADING. 


TABLE  NO.  28.    ORTHOEPY. 


I 

o  J 

B 

o 


I.  Articulation 
of  sounds 


1.  Organs 


2.  Functions 


w3.  Results 


rt  In  parts 


( Abdominal. 

a.  Muscles    ?-fc>08tal. 

L  Thoracic. 

b.  Diaphragm,  or  midriff. 

A.  Chest,  etc.  «{  c.  Thorax,  or  chest  cavity. 

d.  Pleura,  or  lung-case. 

e.  Lungs.  1 

f.  Bronchi. 

g.  Trachea, 
'a.  Larynx. 

b.  Cartilages. 

c.  Vocal  cords. 

B.  Throat,  etc.  1  d.  Glottis. 

e.  Epiglottis. 

f.  Hyoid  bone, 
^g.  Pharynx,  or  swallow. 
"  a.  Eustachian  tubes. 

b.  Nasal  passages. 

c.  Mouth  cavity. 
(Hard. 

.  d.  Palate*} Soft. 
fcC.  Mouth,  etc.  1  (Uvula. 

e.  Upper  Gum. 

f.  Teeth. 

g.  Tongue, 
^h.  Lips. 

A.  Respiration— breathing. 

B.  Phonation,  the  production  of  vocal  sound. 

C.  Articulation,  the  modification  of  element- 

ary sounds. 
A.  Breath— sound  material. 

Voice,  inarticulate  sound. 

Units  of  speech,  or  articulate  sound. 
A.  Tonic. 


II.  Enunciation 
of  syllables 


II 
ft 


Subtonic  ) 
Atonic    J 


("A.  By  position, 

2.  Whole,  and  as 

known      ■< 


combinations. 


("a.  Ultimate. 

)  b.  Penultimate. 

\  c.  Antepenultimate. 

[d.  Preantepenultimate. 


I  B.Prosodically,  fa-Time'as  {fcSnoft. 

ik  tjv™.*  ao  $a-  Accented, 
(b.  Force,  as  |&Unaccente(i 


by 


III.  Pronuncia-  t 
^tionofwordsby ' 


"1.  Origin 
2.  Form 


1 3.  Syllables 


A.  Primitive. 

B.  Derivative. 

A.  Simple. 

B.  Compound. 

f  A.  Monosyllables. 
J  B.  Dissyllables. 
|  C.  Trisyllables. 
LD.  Polysyllable. 


ORTHOEPY.  117 


OKTHOEPY. 

Orthoepy  treats  of  correct  pronunciation,  or  the  distinct 
and  proper  utterance  of  combined  elements  of  language. 
First,  we  must  consider  the  articulation  of  single  elements ; 
second,  the  enunciation  of  combined  elements  in  whole  syl- 
lables, or  in  parts  of  syllables ;  third,  the  pronunciation  of 
words. 

Though  these  three  terms  are  often  regarded  as  synony- 
mous, yet  a  distinction  is  to  be  made  in  their  use.  In  speak- 
ing of  the  general  manner  of  delivery,  elocution  maybe  used 
instead  of  enunciation ;  as,  "  His  elocution  is  good,"  not 
"  His  enunciation  is  good." 

Articidation,  resulting  as  it  does  from  certain  definite 
and  unvarying  configurations  or  movements  of  the  vocal 
organs,  is  in  its  nature  fixed ;  whereas  pronunciation,  de- 
pendent as  it  is  upon  good  usage,  custom,  or  fashion,  is  sub- 
ject to  change  from  time  to  time.  One  unit  of  speech  or 
sound  may  be  substituted  for  another  in  words  of  the  same 
origin  and  meaning,  as  lande  for  land,  honde  (in  Chaucer's 
time)  for  hand  (in  our  time),  myselve  for  myself,  etc.  Some- 
times the  sounds  are  changed  when  the  orthography  is  un- 
changed, as  either  and  neither  for  either  and  neither. 

Articulation,  in  the  science  of  elocution,  is  the  distinct  ut- 
terance of  the  elementary  sounds  of  a  language.*  This  im- 
plies organs,  their  functions  or  offices,  and  the  results.  The 
organs  of  articulation  may  be  classed  in  three  groups ;  those 
of  the  chest,  those  of  the  throat,  and  those  of  the  mouth.  In 
the  production  of  words,  the  first  group  performs  the  labor 
known  as  respiration,  which  furnishes  breath,  or  material  for 
sound ;  the  function  of  the  second  group  is  phonation,  or 
sound-making,  and  results  in  voice  or  sound ;  the  function 
of  the  third  group  is  articulation,  or  sound-modification, 
which  results  in  units  of  speech  or  articulate  sound. 

*  Utterance  does  not  necessarily  mean  articulation ;  as, '  *  He  uttered  a 
sigh,"  "  He  uttered  a  moan."    A  sigh  or  moan  is  not  articulate. 


118 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


I.    FIRST   GROUP — CHEST   ORGANS. 

The  organs  of  respiration,  their  functions,  and  results: 

1.  The  muscles : 

a.  The  abdominal  (in  front)  give  the  first  impulse  toward 
the  production  of  sound,  and,by  contracting,  assist  the  dia- 
phragm in  an  upward  movement. 

b.  The  dorsal  (in  the  lower  part  of  the  back)  act  in  con- 
cert with  the  abdominal  muscles  in  giving  an  upward  move- 
ment during  violent  use  of  the  voice,  as  shouting,  etc. 

c.  The  intercostal  (at  the  lower  part  of  the  chest),  and, 

d.  The  thoracic  and  pectoral  (at  the  upper  part  of  the 
chest),  dilate  and  contract  the  chest  in  breathing  or  vocaliz- 
ing. 

2.  The  diaphragm,  or  midriff  (a  muscular  and  tendinous 
partition  which  separates  the  thorax,  or  great  chest  cavity, 
from  the  abdomen),  gives  an  upward  impulse,  acting  upon, 
the  pleura,  or  lung-case. 

3.  The  thorax,  or  chest  cavity  (the  region  of  body  be- 
tween the  neck  and  stomach),  continues  the  great  work  of 
respiration  by  contracting  and  expanding,  and  gives  depth 
and  resonance  to  the  voice,  as  well  as  voice-material,  or 
breath. 

4.  The  pleura,  or  lung -case  (a  membrane  covering  the 
lungs),  receives  from  the  diaphragm  and  muscles  an  im- 
pulse, which  it  communicates  to  the  lungs,  causing  it  to  ex- 
pel the  air  from  its  cells  into  the  bronchi. 

5.  The  lungs  (a  lobed  and  spongy  body  filled  with  minute 
divisions  and  subdivisions  of  the  bronchi)  act  as  an  air  re- 
ceiver, subject  to  the  action  of  the  pleura. 

6.  The  bronchi  (two  main  branches  of  the  trachea,  or 
windpipe,  with  their  divisions  and  subdivisions)  distribute 
the  air  inhaled  through  the  trachea  to  the  lungs,  and  con- 
vey that  expelled  by  the  organic  impulse  back  through  the 
trachea,  larynx,  and  mouth. 

7.  The  trachea,  or  windpipe  (a  series  of  cartilaginous  or 
gristly  rings  forming  the  great  air-channel  to  and  from  the 
lungs),  serves  to  conduct  the  breath  through  the  bronchi  to 
and  from  the  lungs  in  respiration,  phonation,  and  articulation. 


ORTHOEPY. 


119 


II.    SECOND    GROUP — THROAT   ORGANS. 

The  organs  of  phonation,  their  functions,  and  results: 
1.  The  larynx,  or  Adam's  apple  (a  cartilaginous  box  on 
the  top  of  the  trachea),  expands  and  contracts,  rises  and 
sinks,  thus  enlarging  or  diminishing  its  capacity.  It  is 
depressed  to  produce  grave  sounds,  and  raised  to  produce 
acute  sounds. 


Fig.  1.  Front  view  of  the  Larynx 
and  a  part  of  the  Trachea. 

1.  Epiglottis. 

2.  Thyroid  cartilage. 

3.  Crico-thyroid  cartilage. 

4.  Cricoid  cartilage. 

5.  Trachea. 

6.  Thyroid  gland. 


Fig.  2.  Back  view  of  the  Larynx 
and  upper  part  of  the  Trachea. 

1.  Epiglottis. 

2.  Thyroid  cartilage. 

3.  3.  Arytenoid  cartilages. 

4.  Cricoid  cartilage. 

5.  Trachea. 


2.  The  cartilages  of  the  larynx  : 

a.  The  cricoid  (situated  immediately  over  the  upper  ring 
of  the  trachea,  resembles  in  form  a  seal  ring,  from  which  it 
takes  its  name,  the  seal  being  back,  and  the  narrow  part  of 
the  ring  in  front),  by  its  form  and  position,  admits  of  the  ele- 
vation and  depression  of  this  part  of  the  larynx,  thus  help- 
ing to  render  tone  acute  or  grave. 

b.  The  thyroid  (in  form  of  a  buckler  or  shield,  much  bent, 
and  by  its  two  main  plates  forming  the  sides  or  walls  of  the 
larynx)  usually  determines  the  capacity  of  the  voice,  and, 
with  other  parts  of  the  larynx,  renders  the  voice  compact 
and  sonorous. 

c.  The  arytenoid  (two  in  number,  so  called  from  a  fancied 
resemblance  in  shape  to  a  pitcher,  ladle,  or  funnel,  fill  the 


120 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


space  back  of  the  thyroid  and  cricoid  cartilages,  and  are 
connected  with  both)  serve  as  points  of  support  and  tension 
for  the  vocal  cords  or  ligaments. 


Fig.  4.  Interior  of  the  Larynx,  seen 
from  above. 

1.  Thyroid  cartilage. 

2.  Cricoid  cartilage. 

3.  3.  Arytenoid  cartilages. 

4.  4.  Inferior,  or  true  vocal  chorda. 

5.  Posterior  crico  -  arytenoid  mus- 
cles. 

6.  Lateral  crico-aryterioid  muscles. 

7.  Arytenoideus  muscle. 

8, 8.  Thyro-arytenoid  muscles,  with- 
in  the  dotted  lines. 


Fig.  3.  Vertical  section  of  the  Larynx 
and  a  part  of  the  Trachea. 
1, 1.  Hyoid  or  lingual  bone,  below 
which  is  seen   the  thyro-  hyoid 
membrane  extending  to  the  thy- 
roid cartilage. 

2.  Epiglottis. 

3.  One  wing  of  the  thyroid  cartilage. 

4.  Arytenoid  cartilage  of  one  side. 

5.  Superior,  or  false  vocal  chord  of 
one  side. 

6.  Inferior,  or  true  vocal  chord  of 
one  side. 

7.  Thyroid  cartilage  in  front. 
8, 8.  Cricoid  cartilage. 

9.  Upper  ring  of  the  trachea. 
10.  Thyroid  gland. 

3.  The  vocal  chords,  or  ligaments  (extending  across  the  up- 
per part  of  the  larynx  and  forming  the  lips  of  the  glottis), 
vibrate  with  the  action  of  the  current  of  air  expelled  from 
the  lungs,  and  produce  vocal  sound,  and,  by  tension  and  re- 
mission, produce  various  degrees  of  pitch. 

4.  The  glottis  (the  small  chink  or  opening  between  the 
vocal  chords,  forming  the  mouth  of  the  larynx)  opens  and 
contracts,  thus  deciding  in  part  the  gravity  or  shrillness  of 
tone.    It  dilates  in  low  sounds,  and  contracts  in  high  sounds. 

5.  The  epiglottis  (the  valve  or  lid  of  which  caps  the  glot- 
tis), when  the  larynx  is  elevated,  as  in  the  act  of  swallow- 
ing, covers  the  glottis,  or  orifice  of  the  windpipe,  and  pre- 
vents strangulation.  Usually  it  is  erect,  and  allows  free  in- 
gress and  egress  to  the  breath. 

6.  The  hyoid>  or  JJ-like  bone  (a  small  crescent-shaped  bone 


ORTHOEPY. 


121 


Pharynx 

/   M  W!B%ZZSaiiiiiS^&ML-iL^ 1  Hard  nalate. 

Softpalate 4  —  /erw 

Uvula 8""iWi  »«««• 

Tonsil S fc 

Epiglottis. *—■ |] 

Hyoid  or  lingual  bone. 7- 

\r«„*„vi«^r„^.— ...  „..     -j  a       rvK   JflL«J(oL. —.  8  Superior  vocal  chord  of  one  side. 

lh^         y  e*lde9^^mr^^tlt"-""u  In^rior>  or  true  vocal  chord  of  one  aid*. 

cS^^^ — » Thvroid  cartilag- 

CEaophagus. l*~TTp^jm'~ffM^$U      ' 12  Cricoid  cartilage. 

Trachea 15  /- m~fS^klL 14  Thyroid  gland. 

Fig,  5.  Section  of  the  Head  and  Neck,  showing  the  Organs  of  Speech. 


Line  through  the  superior,  or  false  vocal  chords)    i 

and  false  glottis j 

Line  through  the  ventricles  of  the  larynx <* 

Line  through  the  inferior,  or  true  vocal  chords\  5. 
and  true  glottis ) 

Section  of  the  thyroid  cartilage /  7 

Section  of  the  cricoid  cartilage 


Fig.  6.  Transverse  section,  showing  the  cavity  of  the  Larynx,  with  the  true  vocal 
chords  nearly  parallel,  or  in  a  position  to  vibrate. 

lying  at  the  root  of  the  tongue,  between  the  larynx  and  the 
mouth),  forms  a  point  of  tension  for  the  muscles  which  con- 
nect the  larynx  with  the  mouth,  and  aids  in  giving  pitch.* 

7.  The  pharynx,  or  swallow  (a  dilatable  bag  situated  im- 
mediately behind  and  above  the  larynx,  affects  the  charac- 

*  The  hyoid  bone.  "  Situated  in  an  almost  horizontal  position  behind 
and  rather  below  the  lower  jaw,  it  performs  the  triple  office  of  a  basis  of  the 
tongue,  a  point  of  support  to  the  larynx,  and  a  fulcrum  by  which  the  con- 
tractions of  the  intrinsic  muscles  of  the  tongue  and  the  larynx  may  be  im- 
pressed on  these  organs." 

F 


122  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

ter  of  sound  by  giving  it  resonant  space.  A  large  pharynx 
usually  indicates  a  deep  tone  of  voice,  and  a  small  one  a 
comparatively  high  pitch. 

8.  The  thyroid  gland  (so  called,  although  "it  has  no  excre- 
tory duct ;  a  firm,  vascular  substance,  lying  like  a  cushion, 
in  two  lobes,  across  the  upper  part  of  the  trachea")  is  sup- 
posed to  check  the  vibration  of  sound,  and  prevent  its 
descent.  When  enlarged,  this  gland  produces  goitre,  or 
swelled  neck. 

III.    THIRD    GROUP — MOUTH    ORGANS. 

The  organs  of  articulation,  their  functions,  and  results. 

1.  The  Eustachian  tubes  (canals  leading  from  the  tym- 
pana, or  drums  of  the  ears,  to  the  pharynx)  help  to  render 
the  voice  clear  and  free.* 

2.  The  nasal  passages  (the  innermost  parts  of  the  nostrils 
united  into  one  resonant  channel,  and  opening  into  the  back 
part  of  the  mouth  behind  the  "  veil,"  or  pendant  and  mova- 
ble part  of  the  palate)  give  resonance  to  the  voice,  and  serve 
as  air-channels  when  the  mouth  is  closed,  as  in  ordinary 
breathing. 

3.  The  mouth  cavity  (oval  in  shape,  bounded  in  front  by 
the  lips,  behind  by  the  soft  palate,  above  by  the  hard  palate 
or  roof,  below  by  the  tongue,  and  on  the  sides  by  the  cheeks 
and  teeth),  by  its  arched  structure,  moulds  sound,  and  gives 
it  scope  and  reverberation,  sweetness  and  smoothness. 

4.  The  palate  (divided  into  the  hard  palate,  or  the  roof 
of  the  mouth ;  [2]  the  veil,  or  soft  palate — the  pendant 
and  movable  membranous  curtain  separating  the  mouth 
from  the  pharynx ;  and  [3]  the  uvula,  a  small  round  tag  or 
process  hanging  from  the  middle  of  the  lower  border  of  the 
soft  palate)  defines  the  volume  of  sound. 

5.  The  teeth  help  to  give  a  clear  and  distinct  character  to 
enunciation. 

6.  The  tongue  (composed  of  muscular  fibres,  and  having  a 

*  The  whole  cavity  of  the  head,  its  hollows  and  cells  about  the  face  and 
forehead,  are  subservient  to  the  resonance  of  the  voice.  Organic  malforma- 
tion, snuff-taking,  colds,  or  catarrh,  at  once  prove  how  much  the  clear,  pure, 
ringing  tones  depend  upon  the  proper  condition  of  these  cavities. 


ORTHOEPY.  123 

very  flexible  tip)  modifies  vocal  sound,  and  renders  it  artic- 
ulate, changes  the  size  of  the  mouth  cavity,  directs  sound, 
and,  by  its  various  positions  and  movements,  assists  in  pro- 
ducing the  guttural,  nasal,  and  oral  qualities  of  voice. 

1.  The  lips  project,  convey,  and  modify  sounds  very  mate- 
rially. 

Review  of  Respiration,  or  Breathing. 
The  muscles  of  the  chest — the  intercostal,  thoracic,  and 
pectoral — compress  and  expand  the  thorax,  or  great  chest 
cavity,  thus  expelling  and  receiving  breath,  and  furnishing 
a  constant  supply  of  material  for  sound.* 

JRevieio  of  Phonation.\ 

The  lungs  being  filled  with  breath,  or  material  for  sound, 
the  abdominal  muscles  contract  and  elevate  the  diaphragm, 
which  instantly  communicates  the  received  impulse  to  the 
pleura,  or  lung-case,  which  in  its  turn  expels  the  breath  from 
the  lungs  into  the  bronchi,  thence  into  the  trachea  and  lar- 
ynx, where,  by  the  action  of  the  muscles  at  this  point,  it  is 
rendered  vocal,  or  is  converted  into  sound. 

Review  of  Articulation,  or  the  Production  of  Speech-sounds. 
The  breath,  converted  into  voice  by  the  action  of  the  lar- 
ynx, passes  out  to  the  mouth,  where,  by  the  various  posi- 

*  The  sound  of  the  human  voice,  as  well  as  all  mechanical  or  musical 
sounds,  may  be  discrete  or  concrete.  Discretes  are  successive  detached 
notes  or  sounds ;  concretes  are  smooth  and  united  sounds — a  continuous 
stream  of  gliding  sounds. 

t  The  movement  of  the  shoulders  up  and  down,  in  respiration,  indicates 
some  organic  derangement  or  artificial  restriction.  In  ancient  times,  this 
was  considered  a  great  blemish  in  oratorj,  and  aspirants  to  oratorical  hon- 
ors, subject  to  the  habit,  were  wont  to  practice  with  a  sword  or  other  sharp 
instrument  hung  over  the  shoulder,  so  that  the  slightest  upward  movement 
was  instantly  checked,  and  the  pupil  put  on  his  guard  continually.  Breathe 
horizontally,  or  down  and  outward.  Keep  the  mouth  closed  when  sleeping, 
and  at  other  times  when  not  speaking.  Mr.  George  Catlin,  the  well-known 
Indian  traveler,  has  written  an  entire  volume  upon  this  subject.  He  attrib- 
utes lung  diseases  to  the  pernicious  habit  of  breathing  through  the  mouth. 
He  cured  himself  of  the  habit  by  wearing  a  sort  of  clasp  on  the  lips  whii<s 
sleeping.     A  small  bit  of  isinglass-plaster  answers  as  well. 


124  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

tions  or  motions  of  the  palate,  tongue,  teeth,  and  lips,  it  is 
rendered  articulate,  i.  e.,  made  into  distinct  sounds  called 
"  units  of  speech,"  each  of  which  is  readily  distinguished 
from  all  the  others. 

Thus  elements  of  speech  may  be  traced  from  the  first  im- 
pulse that  begins  them  to  the  last  and  least  modification 
that  perfects  them. 


ORTHOEPY.  125 


YOICE. 

Voice  is  sound  produced  by  the  forcible  passage  of  air 
through  the  larynx. 

The  human  voice,  independent  of  articulation,  has  sever- 
al  native  and  acquired  qualities,  as  compass,  volume,  and 
(when  emitted  in  successive  impulses,  or  notes)  rate,  or  time. 
See  Note,  p.  123. 

Compass  and  volume  (or  pitch  and  force)  are  attributes 
common  to  all  voices.  Pitch  is  caused  by  variations  in  the 
condition  and  dimensions  of  the  glottis,  and  also  by  the 
length  of  the  vocal  tube — the  larynx  being  raised  for  high 
notes,  and  depressed  for  low  ones. 

The  voice  varies  in  force  from  a  whisper  to  a  shout,  just 
as  the  breath  varies  from  soft  breathing  to  panting.  The 
degree  of  loudness  of  the  voice  is  in  proportion  to  the  ex- 
pulsive effort,  and  the  resistance  which  the  air  meets  in  its 
passage  from  the  lungs  through  the  vocal  tube.  If  little  re* 
sistance  be  given  to  the  outward  rush  of  air,  an  aspirated  or 
whispered  sound  is  the  result. 

Compass  of  voice  is  the  range  of  its  capabilities  upon  the 
diatonic  scale,  above  or  below  which  it  can  not  go  easily. 
The  usual  compass  of  cultivated  voices  is  three  octaves.* 
In  ascending  the  scale,  there  is  a  point  where  the  voice  is 
said  to  "break."  This  point  is  about  two  octaves  above 
the  lowest  note  of  the  voice.  The  notes  of  the  voice  above 
this  point  are  called  falsetto,  and  those  below,  natural. 

In  music,  the  lowest  octave  of  male  voices  is  called  bass; 
the  middle,  or  second  octave,  tenor;  and  the' highest  octave, 
treble.  The  corresponding  octaves  of  female  voices  are  call- 
ed contralto,  mezzo-soprano,  and  soprano.\  The  natural  pitch 
of  women's  and  boys'  voices  is  one  octave  above  that  of 
men.  The  treble  corresponds  with  the  falsetto,  and  the 
tenor  and  bass  with  the  orotund,  in  man's  voice ;  and  the 

*  It  is  said  that  the  ear  can  perceive  nine  octaves. 

f  The  bass  is  often  called  by  its  Italian  name,  basso ;  the  tenor,  baritone  ; 
and  the  treble,  tenore.  - 


126  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

soprano  corresponds  with  the  falsetto,  and  the  contralto 
with  the  orotund,  in  woman's  voice. 

QUALITIES    OP  VOICE. 

Quality  is  the  nature  of  a  thing  relatively  considered. 
Quality  of  voice  is  the  kind  or  property  of  the  voice.  There 
are  eight  of  these  organic,  habitual,  or  assumed  qualities. 
They  are  aspirate,*  pure,  orotund,  pectoral,  guttural,  nasal, 
oral,  and  falsetto. 

Every  person's  voice  is  characterized  by  one  or  more  of 
these  qualities.  The  pure,  orotund,  pectoral,  and  aspirate 
can  not  be  united,  but  the  nasal  will  unite  with  any  other 
quality  except  the  oral  and  guttural.  Thus  one  may  speak 
in  the  nasal  pure,  the  nasal  orotund,  or  the  nasal  aspirate. 

The  pure  and  orotund  are  far  more  pleasing  than  the 
remaining  qualities,  so  that  the  former  may  properly  be 
classed  as  agreeable,  and  the  latter  as  disagreeable  qualities, 
or  vices. 

1.  The  aspirate  is  known  as  a  whisper  and  half  whisper^ 
The  whisper  is  the  least  audible  articulate  sound,  being  mid- 
way between  breath  and  vocality.     It  might  be  called  artic- 
ulated breath. 
Example.      " The  foe!     They  come!     They  come!" — Byron. 

The  half  whisper  is  more  vocal  than  the  whisper,  being 
midway  between  that  and  full  vocality.  These  two  varie- 
ties of  sound  arise  from  a  relaxed  condition  of  the  vocal 
chords,  caused  by  fear,  weakness,  awe,  secretiveness,  anger, 
or  any  violent  emotion  which  prevents  deep  and  full  inspira- 
tion. The  parts  are  temporarily  paralyzed,  and  allow  more 
breath  to  escape  from  the  lungs  than  is  rendered  vocal  by 
the  larynx. 

Examples. 

(Am  V'^n(*  tnen  we  thought  on  vengeance,  and  all  along  our  van, 

*  Remember  Saint  Bartholomew !'  was  passed  from  man  to  man." 

Macaulay. 

"  To  bed,  to  bed ;  there's  knocking  at  the  gate. 
Come,  come,  come,  come,  give  me  your  hand!" — Macbeth. 

*  The  aspirate  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  a  place  under  voice,  since  it  has 
no  vocality ;  but,  having  tone,  it  has  a  place  among  qualities. 


ORTHOEPY.  127 

2.  The  pure  is  the  full,  distinct  tone,  which,  above  all  oth- 
ers, is  agreeable  to  the  ear.  In  this  quality  the  inspirations 
are  deep  and  full,  and  the  breath  is  given  out  slowly,  the 
whole  being  converted  into  the  greatest  possible  amount  of 
sound.  It  is  in  strong  contrast  with  the  aspirate,  which 
takes  in  a  small  supply  of  air  and  sends  out  much,  thereby 
making  little  vocality.* 

Example.  "  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd ; 

It  droppeth,  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath :  it  is  twice  bless 'd  ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes : 
'Tis  mightiest  in  the  mightiest ;  it  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown  : 
His  sceptre  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power, 
The  attribute  to  awe  and  majesty, 
Wherein  doth  sit  the  dread  and  fear  of  kings ; 
But  mercy  is  above  this  sceptred  sway ; 
It  is  an  attribute  to  God  himself: 
And  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's, 
When  mercy  seasons  justice. " — Siiakspeare. 

3.  The  orotund  is  the  intensity  and  dignity  of  the  pure 
tone,  known  by  its  depth,  rounded  fullness,  and  power.  "  It 
is  the  pure  tone  rounded  in  the  mouth  and  deepened  in  the 
chest." 

Example.     "On  the  earl's  cheek  the  flush  of  rage 
O'ercame  the  ashen  hue  of  age  ; 
Fierce  he  broke  forth  :  'And  darest  thou,  then, 
To  beard  the  lion  in  his  den, 
The  Douglas  in  his  hall  ? 
And  hop'st  thou  hence  unscathed  to  go  ? 
No !  by  St.  Bride  of  Bothwell,  no ! 
Up  drawbridge,  groom !     What !  warder !  ho ! 
Let  the  portcullis  fall ! '  " — Scott. 

4.  The  pectoral,  or  hollow  tone,  arises  from  feeble  organs, 
ill  health,  diffidence,  constraint,  or  the  like,  but  it  is  oftener 
the  result  of  weak  action  of  the  abdominal  muscles  in  giv- 
ing the  primary  impulse  to  vocal  expression.  Its  pitch  is 
low,  with  the  resonance  in  the  chest. 

*  That  vocal  utterance  which  produces  smoothly  and  without  apparent  ef- 
fort the  greatest  number  of  distinct  sounds  with  the  least  amount  of  breath, 
or  material  for  sound,  is  the  most  perfect  for  emotional  speaking,  for  it  al- 
lows an  uninterrupted  climax.  ■ 


128  MANUAL  OF   BEADING. 

Examples. 
<c  Yon  may,  if  it  be  God's  will,  gain  onr  barren  and  rug- 
ged mountains ;  but,  like  our  ancestors  of  old,  we  will  seek 
refuge  in  wilder  and  more  distant  solitudes,  and,  when  we 
have  resisted  to  the  last,  we  will  starve  in  the  icy  wastes  of 
the  glaciers.  Ay,  men,  women,  and  children,  we  will  be 
frozen  into  annihilation  together  ere  one  free  Switzer  will 
acknowledge  a  foreign  master  1" 

"  The  skies  they  were  ashen  and  sober, 
The  leaves  they  were  crisped  and  sear, 
The  leaves  they  were  |  withering  and  sear. 

It  was  |  night  |  in  the  lonesome  |  October 
(Of  my  most  immemorial  year). 

It  was  hard  |  by  the  dim  ]  Lake  of  Auber, 
In  the  misty  mid-region  of  Wier.; 

It  was  down  by  the  dank  tarn  of  Auber, 

In  the  ghoul- 1  haunted  woodland  of  Wier." — Poe. 

5.  The  guttural,  or  rough,  grating  voice,  seems  to  issue 
from  an  obstructed  throat.  "  The  immediate  organic  cause 
of  this  bad  quality  of  tone  is  an  improper  pressure  of  the 
muscles  around  the  larynx  and  the  root  of  the  tongue,  caus- 
ing the  voice,  in  the  one  case,  apparently  to  issue  from  the 
pharynx,  or  swallow,  instead  of  the  larynx ;  and,  in  the  oth- 
er, to  originate  in  the  upper  part  of  the  throat  only,  cut  off 
from  communication  with  either  the  chest  or  mouth." — Rus- 
sel.     It  expresses  hate,  contempt,  malignity,  rage,  etc. 

Example.         "  The  curse  my  noble  father  laid  on  thee 

When,  thou  didst  crown  his  warlike  brows 
With  paper. " — Shakspeare. 

6.  The  nasal  is  a  tone  which  seems  to  come  through  the 
nose.  Organically  it  is  made  by  allowing  the  voice  to  drift 
with  force  against  the  nasal  passages  while  they  are  partly 
closed,  and  the  veil  of  the  palate  is  too  low.  It  is  voice 
with  little  or  no  resonance  in  the  nose. 

Example.  l '  I  tell  you  what,  I'll  build  one  shay  to  beat  the  taoun, 
'N  the  keounty,  'n  all  the  kentry  raoun' ; 
It  shall  be  so  built  that  it  couldn'  break  daoun. " 

O.  W.  Holmes. 


ORTHOEPY.  12(J 

7.  The  oral  is  a  voice  seemingly  distant,  as  if  coming  from 
another  room,  a  box,  or  closet,  and  partakes  of  ventriloquy 
in  its  effect.  It  can  be  produced  by  making  the  mouth-cav- 
ity high  and  narrow,  pressing  the  cheeks  closely  against  the 
well-opened  teeth  while  speaking,  and  forcing  the  sound  up- 
ward as  it  escapes.  The  veil  of  the  palate  is  high  in  pro- 
ducing the  oral. 

Example.         "  Then  fear  not,  doubt  not,  which  thou  wilt, 
We'll  try  this  quarrel  hilt  to  hilt." — Scott. 

8.  The  falsetto.  In  the  falsetto  voice,  the  vocal  ligaments 
do  not  meet  in  their  entire  length,  either  a  posterior  or  an 
anterior  portion  of  them  remaining  apart.*  It  arises  from 
feebleness,  fatigue,  indifference,  affectation,  and  the  like.  In 
music,  this  voice  is  called  treble,  and  begins  about  two  oc- 
taves above  the  lowest  note  of  the  voice,  where,  in  ascend- 
ing the  musical  scale,  the  voice  is  said  to  "  break."  All 
notes  above  this  "break"  are  falsetto,  and  those  below,  nat- 
ural. In  producing  this  quality,  the  veil  of  the  palate  is 
high,  and  the  uvula  is  contracted  into  the  veil  and  complete- 
ly hidden  from  sight.  It  expresses  irritability,  scolding,  in- 
vective, etc.  / 

Example. 
u  Billy !  where  are  you,  Billy  ?    I  say,  come  home  to  your  best  of  mothers. 

I'm  scared  when  I  think  of  them  Cabroleys,  they  drive  so ; 

They'd  run  over  their  own  sisters  and  brothers. 

Or  maybe  he's  stole  by  some  chimney-sweeping  wretch,  to  -stick  in  nar- 
row flues  and  what  not, 

And  be  poked  up  behind  with  a  picked  pointed  pole,  when  the  soot  has 
ketched  and  the  chimbly's  red  hot. 

Oh,  I'd  give  the  whole  wide  world,  if  the  world  was  mine,  to  clap  my  two 
longin'  eyes  on  his  face ;  » 

For  he's  my  darlin'  of  darlin's,  and  if  he  don't  soon  come  back,  you'll  see 
me  drop  stone  dead  on  the  place."— Hood,  The  Lost  Heir. 

Nasal  sound-units  (m,  n,  ng)  are  emitted  through  the  nose,  while  the 
quality  of  voice  known  as  nasal  is  produced  when  the  nasal  passages  art 
partially  closed. 

F2 


130 


MANUAL   OF   READING. 


TABLE  NO.  29.    ELEMENTS  OF  LANGUAGE. 

r  1.  In  Number  34  or  36. 


CL  Sounds 


2.  As  to   - 


A.  Tone 


(a.  ' 
J  ft.  I 
(c.  J 


3.  In 
f  1.  In  Number  26. 

2.  In  Script  called 


B.  Organic  Con- 
struction 

f  A.  Pitch 

Force 

,  Time 


f  A.  Pit 
1  B.  Foi 
( C.  Tin 


Tonic. 

Subtonic. 

Atonic. 
a.  Oral-larynguala 
6.  Labials, 
c.  Linguals. 
^d.  Palatals. 

>-  (See  Tables.) 


"A.  Form  (capital  and  small) 


1 3.  Print 


B.  Size 


a.  Round  hand. 
6.  Running  hand. 

c.  Epistolary  hand. 

d.  Court  hand. 

e.  German  text,  etc 
a.  Romanic, 
ft.  Italic, 
c  0ltJ  2EttfllfsJ>. 

<*•  ©ermcrn  $ert, 
etc. 
Bniiiant  (the  smallest). 

b.    Diamond. 
C.    Pearl. 

d.  Ruby. 

e.  Agate. 

f.  Nonpareil. 

g.  Minion, 
h.  Brevier. 

i.  Bourgeois, 
j.  Long  Primer. 
k.  Small  Pica. 
i.  Pica. 
^English. 

*  Great  Primer. 

°  Paragon. 

Canon 


(the  largest  that  has  a  specific  name). 


,C.  Names 


bee. 
cee. 
dee* 
e. 
ef. 
gee. 
aitch. 
i. 

jay. 
kay. 
el. 
L  em. 


en. 

o. 

pee. 

qu. 

ar. 

es. 

tee. 

u. 

vee. 

double-you. 

eks. 

y. 

zee. 


(  See  Tables  No.  1  and  No.  2. 


ORTHOEPY.  131 


ELEMENTS  OF  LANGUAGE. 

Language  is  the  expression  of  thought  and  feeling.  It 
may  be  oral,  or  expressed  by  sensible  signs. 

Oral  language  is  expression  by  vocal  sounds — articulate^ 
as  in  speech ;  or  inarticulate,  as  in  sighs,  sobs,  groans,  etc. 

/Sensible  sign-language  is  expression  by  gesture,  as  in  the 
language  of  mutes,  etc.,  or  by  letters,  which  appeal  to  the 
sense  of  sight,  as  in  written  or  printed  composition. 

Every  indivisible  portion  of  language  is  a  primary  ele- 
ment or  unit  of  language,  and  every  unit  has  a  sound,  or  a 
sign  and  name.  In  written  or  printed  language  every  sign 
(letter  of  the  alphabet)  has  a  name,  and  represents  one  or 
more  units  of  sound ;  but,  unfortunately,  every  unit  of  sound 
has  not  a  name  nor  a  visible  sign.  The  sign  h,  for  instance, 
has  a  sound,  as  heard  in  hat,  and  a  name,  aitch ;  but  the 
sound  of  a,  as  heard  in  dt,has  no  name,  neither  has  it  a  sign 
distinguishing  it  from  a,  as  heard  in  the  words  fate,  far, 
fall.  Diacritical  marks,  which  indicate  the  precise  sound 
required,  are  sometimes  used  in  dictionaries  and  spelling- 
books;  but  these  marked  letters  scarcely  assume  the  dignity 
of  distinct  signs,  and  are  so  seldom  found  in  print  as  to  fur- 
nish quite  inadequate  assistance  to  native  or  foreign  students 
in  the  acquisition  of  the  English  language.  The  letter  a, 
for  example,  may  stand  for  any  one  of  seven  sounds,  un- 
less it  receive  some  one  of  the  following  marks,  a,  a,  a,  a, 
a,  a,  a,  to  indicate  the  required  sound,  and,  since  these  add- 
ed marks  are  neither  in  general  use  in  scientific  or  literary 
works,  nor  uniform  in  dictionaries,  thousands  of  words  must 
be  arbitrarily  learned.  Again,  as  if  to  add  to  confusion, 
there  are  from  one  to  fourteen  single  and  compound  sig?is 
to  represent  a  solitary  sound,  and  there  are  some  sounds 
without  any  signs.  (See  Table, "  Elements  of  Language." 
Note  the  pure  sounds  or  units  of  speech,  the  sounds  that 
are  common  to  several  signs,  and  their  equivalents,  etc.) 
There  are  about  thirty-six  sound-units,  twenty-six  sign-units, 
and  twenty-six  names  for  the  signs. 


1351  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

1.  A  unit  of  sound  is  an  indivisible  portion  of  spoken  lan- 
guage, and  appeals  to  the  ear. 

2.  A  letter  or  sign-unit  is  an  indivisible  portion  of  written 
or  printed  language,  and  appeals  to  the  eye  (or,  in  case  of 
blindness,  to  the  sense  of  feeling). 

Signs  are  known  by  their  form,  as  R  o  m  a  n  i  c,  ©15  (En- 
glish Italic,  ©ermcm^£ert,  etc.,  each  having  twenty-six  capi- 
tals, and  twenty-six  corresponding  small  or  "lower-case" 
letters. 

Printed  signs  are  distinguished  by  their  comparative  size, 
as  brilliant  (the  smallest),  diamond  (the  next  larger  size), 
pearl,  ruby,  agate,  nonpareil,  etc.,  up  to  canon  ,(the  largest 
which  has  a  name)  (see  Table  No.  29).  Besides  being  dis- 
tinguished by  form  and  size,  signs  have  each  a  name  (twen- 
ty-six in  number),  a,  bee,  cee,  dee,  ee,  ef,  je,  aitch,  etc.  (see 
Table  No.  29).  These  names  are  expressions  used  in  speak- 
ing of  the  alphabet  as  initials,  as  R.  H.  Smith,  LL.D. 

units  of  speech  (see  Table,  p.  8). 

A  unit  of  speech  or  sound-unit  is  an  indivisible  portion  of 
spoken  language.  The  various  positions  and  motions  of  the 
organs  of  speech  so  modify  vocalized  breath  as  to  produce 
at  least  thirty-four  distinct  sounds  or  units  of  speech. 

Those  sound-units,  produced  with  no  obstruction  of  the 
vocal  tube  (trachea,  larynx,  and  mouth),  are  called  vowels  or 
tonics  ;  those  formed  with  the  vocal  tube  entirely  or  partial- 
ly closed  at  some  point,  are  called  consonants,  or  sub-tonics 
and  atonies.  The  three  points  or  stations  where  the  vocal 
tube  is  closed  or  obstructed  are  at  the  lips,  at  the  front  pal- 
ate (or  roof  near  the  front  teeth),  and  at  the  back  palate. 
Those  units  formed  by  the  obstruction  at  the  lips  are  called 
labials,  those  formed  by  an  obstruction  at  the  front  palate 
(or  by  the  teeth  and  tongue)  are  called  Unguals,  and  those 
!  formed  at  the  back  palate  are  called  palatals,  or,  less  prop- 
erly, gutturals. 

Mem.  1.  "  Professor  Willis,  in  experimenting  on  the  nature 
of  sound,  discovered  that  in  placing  a  reed  in  a  common 
organ-pipe,  the  length  of  which  could  be  varied  at  pleasure, 
and  forcing  the  air  through  it  with  a  pair  of  bellows,  he  ob- 


ORTHOEPY.  133 

tained,  according  to  the  length  of  the  pipe  (going  from  the 
sound  produced  by  the  shortest  to  that  produced  by  the 
longest),  the  following  series  of  sounds,  as  expressed  by  the 
italicized  vowels  of  the  given  words,  viz.:  l.me;  2.  mate; 
3.  mar ;  4,  maw ;  5.  mow ;  6.  myrrh ;  7.  mood ;  and  that,  con- 
tinuing to  lengthen  the  pipe,  the  same  sounds  were  still 
heard,  but  in  an  inverse  order — 7,  6,  5,  4,  3,  2, 1 ;  and  that, 
still  further  increasing  its  length,  the  same  identical  sounds 
again  occurred,  but  in  the  first  order  ;  and  so  on  throughout." 
—  Cambridge  Phil.  Transactions,  vol.  iii.,  p.  231-262. 

Rem.  2.  "  The  natural  order  of  the  primary  vowels,  as  de- 
termined mechanically,  is  I,  E,  A,  O,  U,  or  TJ,  O,  A,  E,  I  (i.  e.y 
e,  a,  a,  o,  oo,  or  oo,  6,  a,  a,  e),  as  heard  in  the  English  words 
field,  vein,  far,  owe,  ooze.  This  order  should  be  well  im- 
pressed upon  the  memory." — Haldeman's  Latin  Prosody. 

Mem.  3.  "  The  closeness  of  e  and  oo  approximates  them  to 
the  nearest  consonant,  into  which  they  are  apt  to  fall ;  the 
first  into  the  semi-vowel  y,  and  the  last  into  the  semi-vowel 
w."  Ah,  however,  from  its  extreme  openness,  is  farthest  re- 
moved from  the  consonants. 

Besides  the  formation  names  (labials,  etc.,  see  Table,  p. 
9),  sound-units  are  classed  and  named  with  reference  to 
their  tone  or  vocality,  as,  1.  Tonics;  2.  Sub-tonics;  and,  3. 
Atonies;  or,  1.  Vocals;  2.  Sub-vocals ;  3.  Aspirates. 

1 .  A  tonic  is  a  full  tone  modified,  but  not  interrupted  in 
the  vocal  tube,  and  capable  of  indefinite  prolongation. 

2.  A  sub-tonic  is  a  sound  which  has  less  perfect  vocality 
than  the  tonic,  and,  being  more  or  less  interrupted  in  its 
passage  through  the  vocal  tube,  has  less  capacity  for  pro- 
longation. 

3.  An  atonic  is  an  articulate  breath-sound.* 

The  tonics  comprise  all  the  sounds  of  the  vowels  a,  e,  i,  o, 
u  (w  and  y  have  no  tonic  sounds  not  found  among  the  pure 
sounds  of  the  vowels).  Phonologists  (lifter  very  materially 
as  to  the  number  of  sounds  in  the  English  language,  so  that 

*  It  is  a  sound,  or  it  could  not  be  heard,  and  it  is  articulate,  or  we  could 
not  understand  what  is  said  ;  i.  e.,  it  has  a  characteristic  formation,  yet  it  is 
not  vocal,  or  it  would  be  capable  of  variations  in  pitch.  Atonies  can  not  be 
said  to  have  pitch. 


134 


MANUAL    OF   READING. 


no  system  can  be  free  from  objection,  however  carefully  pre- 
pared. 

In  describing  the  sound-units  called  tonics,  those  which 
require  no  change  in  the  position  of  the  organs  of  speech, 
from  their  beginning  to  their  close,  are  called  pure  or  simple 
tonics  (see  Table  No.  2),  while  those  that  require  a  change  of 
position  in  the  organs  of  speech  during  their  formation  are 
called  diphthongal  tonics. 

The  diphthongal  tonics  have  a  radical  or  beginning,  and 
a  vanish  or  close.  The  sound  of  a  letter  which  can  not  be 
distinguished  from  another  sound,  already  attributed  to 
some  letter  as  one  of  its  pure  sounds,  is  said  to  be  common, 
i.  e.,  common  to  two  or  more  sign-units  or  letters  (see  Table 
No.  2).  The  sounds  of  a,  as  in  all,  and  o,  as  in  old,  when 
not  so  closely  joined  to  a  succeeding  sound  as  to  prevent 
their  completion,  have  each  a  vanish,  or  closing  sound,  dis- 
tinct from  the  radical,  or  opening  sound. 

But,  since  the  vanish  is  often  omitted  in  unaccented  syl- 
lables and  at  other  times,  they  are  classed  with  the  simple 
vowels,  and  not  with  the  diphthongs  (see  Principles  of  Pro- 
nunciation  in  Webster,  §  44,  50). 

the  tonic  or  vowel  sounds.     (See  Table  No.  6.) 


Webster. 

Worces- 
ter. 

A  has  four  pure  sounds  and  three  common : 

a  (ae) 

a  (aT) 

as  in  ale,  or  long  a,     "] 
"    at,  or  short  a,       1             sounds 
"    far,  or  Italian  a,  f  pme  sounas- 

a 
a 

a 
a 

a 

a 

"    all,  or  broad  a,    J 

a(g) 

a 

"    dare,  many  (like  short  e  prolonged,  called  com- 
mon). 

a 

a 

"    ask,  past,  or  intermediate  (between  short  and  Ital- 
ian a). 

»(3) 

a 

11    what  (like  short  o,  common). 

E  has  two  pure  sounds  and  four  common : 

e 

6 

e 
e 

as  in  eve,  or  long  e,     )           SOrmds 
"    end,  or  short  e,  f pure  sounas- 

«(«) 

c 

"    her,  or  e  before  r,  trans-fer  (common). 

6(a) 

e 

u    where  (common). 

fi(a) 

e 

"    eight  (common). 

e(T) 

11    pretty  (common). 

J  has  one  diphthongal  sound,  one  pure,  and  two  com- 
mon: 

T(ae) 

T  (ue) 

as  in  ice,  or  long  i  (diphthongal). 

I 

I 

11    it,  or  short  i,  pure  sound. 

ORTHOEPY. 


13ft 


Webster. 

Worces- 
ter. 

1(e) 

1 

as  in  marine,  or  the  French  sound  of  i,  like  e  Jong  (com- 
mon). 

!•(«) 

l 

11    sir,  fir,  or  the  sound  of  u  short  (common). 

1 

i(y) 

"     union. 

0  has  three  pure  sounds  and  three  common  : 

o 

5 

as  in  old,  or  long  o,                       ) 

o 

o 

u    lot,  or  short  o,                     Vpure  sounds. 

Q 

6 

"    do,  move,  or  long  close  o,  ) 

6  (a) 

o(a) 

"     orb,  form,  like  a  broad  (common). 

6(u) 

6(G) 
o(u) 

"    s6n,  6ther,  like  short  u  (common). 

9(V) 

"    WQlf,  woman,  like  u  in  full  (common). 

U  has  two  pure  sounds,  four  common,  and  one  diph- 

5(eo) 

u  (eo) 

as  in  lute,  or  long  u  (diphthongal).                    [thongal : 

u 
u 

«    JP>orsh^tu,      I  pure  sounds. 
"    full,  or  obtuse  u,  )  * 

B(a) 

u(6) 

"    rule,  sure  (see  Rule,  p.  1),  (common). 

u 

u 

u    urge  (common). 

u 

m(9) 

"    bury  (berry)  (common). 

u 

u(T) 

"    business  (bizness)  (common). 
TFhas  one  vowel  sound,  common: 

w(o) 

w 

as  in  now  (like  o  in  do). 
Fhas  three  sounds,  common: 

y(T) 

y 

as  in  by  (like  long  7). 

y(i) 

y 

"    sylph  (like  short  I). 

y(u) 

y 

"    myrtle  (like  short  w).. 

-  Beside  the  sounds  already  named,  we  have  combined — 

oo  (o),  as  in  moon  (like  o  in  do). 

oo  (y),  as  in  foot  (like  u  in  full). 

oo  (5),  as  in  floor  (like  o  in  more). 

oo  (u),  as  in  flood  (like  u  in  up). 

ou  or  ow  (uy),  as  in  our,  flower  (a  union  of  u  In  up  and  u  in  full). 

oi  or  oy  (at),  as  in  oil,  boy  (a  union  of  a  in  ball  and  i  in  pin). 

SUB-TONICS   AND   ATONICS.      BY    ORGANIC   FORMATION. 

Labials. 
Those  sounds  whose  peculiar  characteristic  is  formed  by 
the  position  or  action  of  the  lips  are  called  labials.     They 
are  the  sounds  of  m,  p,  b,  v,  f,  w.* 

1.  M  is  produced  by  closing  the  lips  and  sending  vocal- 
ized breath  through  the  nose. 

2.  P  is  produced  by  forcing  breath  suddenly  through  the 
closed  lips. 

3.  B  is  produced  by  closing  the  lips  and  making  a  vocal 
sound  in  the  throat  before  opening  them. 

*  The  sounds  of  m,  b,  p  are  nearly  alike ;  m  is  produced  with  the  mouth 
passage  closed,  and  p  is  a  whispered  b ;  n,  d,  t,  and  ng,  g,  k,  have  the  same 
or  corresponding  differences. 


136  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

4.  F  is  produced  by  placing  the  under  lip  against  the 
edges  of  the  upper  incisor  teeth,  and  audibly  breathing 
through  them. 

5.  V  is  produced  by  placing  the  organs  in  the  same  posi- 
tion as  for  the  sound  off,  and  making  vocal  the.  breath  as  it 
escapes. 

6.  W  is  produced  by  nearly  closing  the  lips,  making  a 
sound  in  the  throat,  and  forcing  it  through  them. 

Unguals. 

Those  sounds  whose  peculiar  characteristic  is  caused  by 
the  special  position  or  action  of  the  tongue  are  called  Un- 
guals.    They  are  n,  d,  t,  th,  th,  s,  z,  r,  1. 

1.  The  sound  of  n,  as  in  noon,  is  produced  by  placing  the 
tip  of  the  tongue  against  the  interior  upper  gums,  so  as  to 
close  the  vocal  tube,  and  emitting  vocal  sound  through  the 
nose. 

2.  The  sound  of  d,  as  in  did,  is  produced  by  closing  the 
vocal  tube  as  before,  and  forcing  vocal  sound  through  the 
obstructions  in  the  mouth. 

3.  The  sound  of  t,  as  in  tent,  is  produced  by  closing  the 
vocal  tube,  as  described  in  No.l,  and  forcing  breath  through 
the  obstruction. 

4.  The  sound  of  th,  as  in  this,  is  produced  by  placing  the 
rim  of  the  tongue  against  the  edges  of  the  upper  teeth,  and 
emitting  vocalized  breath  between  them. 

5.  The  sound  of  th,  as  in  thin,  is  produced  by  joining  the 
teeth  and  tongue,  as  before,  and  emitting  breath  instead  of 
vocal  sound. 

6.  The  sound  of  s,  as  in  son,  is  produced  by  pressing  the 
sides  of  the  tongue  against  the  teeth  in  such  a  way  as  to 
leave  a  small  passage  down  its  centre,  and  forcing  breath 
through  this  channel,  causing  it  to  escape  the  teeth  in  a  hiss. 

7.  The  sound  of  z,  as  in  zone,  is  formed  by  vocalizing  the 
breath  as  it  escapes,  instead  of  emitting  it,  as  in  s. 

8.  The  sound  of  r,  as  in  run,  is  produced  by  bringing  the 
sides  of  the  tongue  against  the  teeth,  elevating  the  tip  to- 
ward the  centre  of  the  roof  of  the  mouth,  but  leaving  it  free 
to  vibrate,  and  emitting  vocal  sound. 


ORTHOEPY.  137 

9.  The  sound  of  I,  as  in  lull,  is  formed  by  placing  the  tip 
of  the  tongue  against  the  front  roof  of  the  mouth,  and  emit- 
ting vocal  sound  over  the  sides  of  the  tongue. 

Palatals. 
Those  sounds  whose  peculiar  characteristic  is  caused  by 
the  position  or  action  of  the  palate  are  called  palatals.    They 
are  ng,  g,  k,  c,  or  sh,  z,  ft,  y;  with  the  consonant  triphthongs 
ch  and  J.* 

1.  The  sound  of  ng  as  in  sing,  or  n  in  ink,  is  formed  by 
raising  the  base  of  the  tongue  against  the  palate,  so  as  to 
close  the  vocal  tube  at  that  point,  and  emitting  vocal  sound 
through  the  nose  with  the  lips  open. 

2.  The  sound  of  g,  as  in  go,  is  produced  by  closing  the  vo- 
cal tube  at  the  palate  and  nasal  passages  (thus  confining 
the  vocal  sound  in  the  throat),  and  suddenly  expelling  the 
breath  by  way  of  the  mouth. 

3.  The  sound  of  &,  as  in  kite,  is  formed  by  closing  the  vo- 
cal tube  at  the  palate  and  nasal  passages,  and  forcing  out  a 
puff  of  unvocalized  breath. 

4.  The  sound  of  sh  as  in  shall,  or  c  as  in  ocean,  is  formed 
by  bringing  the  sides  of  the  tongue  in  contact  with  the  roof 
of  the  mouth,  and  sending  a  breath-sound  through  the^open- 
ing  thus  formed.  It  is  a  sound  midway  between  s  and  y. 
(See  Webster's  Principles  of  Pronunciation.) 

5.  The  sound  of  z  (zh),  as  in  azure,  differs  from  sh  only  in 
being  vocal. 

6.  The  sound  of  h,\  as  in  hat,is  an  emission  of  unvocalized 
breath,  through  whatever  position  of  the  mouth-organs  the 
succeeding  element  requires,  the  organs  being  always  placed 
to  form  the  next  succeeding  letter  before  the  h  is  produced. 

1.  The  subtonic  sound  of  y,  as  in  yes,  is  a  sound  approxi- 
mating the  vowel  e,  the  sound  of  y  being  less  pure  in  vocali- 
ty  because  of  a  greater  obstruction  of  the  vocal  tube.  The 
tongue  is  closer  to  the  roof  of  the  mouth  in  producing  y  than 
in  producing  e. 

*  Ch  and  j  are  triphthongs  (see  Tables  Nos.  3  and  6). 
f  H  is  not  included  with  labials  or  Unguals,  and  has  been  placed  among 
the  palatals. 


138 


MANUAL   OF   READING 


rI.  Is  term- 
ed 


1.  High 


2.  Middle 


J.  Low 


TABLE  NO.  30.    PITCH. 

(A.  An  octave) 

.  A  fifth       >  above  the  middle  key. 
.  A  third      j 

The  natural  key,  as  in  ordinary  conversation. 

(A.  A  third      ) 

.  A  fifth        >  below  the  middle  key. 
.  An  octave ) 


(A.. 

Th( 
(A.. 


lis  mon- 
f    otone 


M 


/A.  Absolute  (in  music)       )  ™««v«/i  /  \"  » 

\B.  Apparent  (in  elocution)  /  marKed  (  h 

r»- w {?sg((?>. 


I  b.  Comp. 
or  wave 


a.  Single       {?«&*<& 
fcDooble      $&££ 


£>   (a.  A  third     ^     r-  m-i—    r 

&D  »  ^  b.  A  fifth       V  4  J-  ™2  4  from  the  radical  pitch, 

A  .3   (c.  An  octave)     l*>- Falling  1 


A 
c;5 


0Q 

p 


a.  Exclamation  ( * ). 

b.  Affirmation  (i)l 

c  Npffation  /      /«•  Emphatic  ( * ). 

c.  negation \&.  Not  emphatic  (')• 

d.  Imperative  ( \ ). 

e.  Interrogative {£  Sdfrei?^. 

f.  Apposition  ( ^ )  ( ' ' ). 

e  -Antithesis  (a.  Single  (W)  ('>). 

g.  Antitnesis ^  Double  ( *  /  '* ). 

h  Parenthesis  (a.  Suspension  ('). 

n.  rarentnesis ^  Ad(fition  ( <  )# 

r  Simnlo         /a-  Commencing  (' '  *  ')• 
J  bimple         \b.  Concluding  ('  /  '* ). 
i.  Series        ■< 

Icomponndl-Commenc^o;^ 

j.  Cadence     $^%%$l%£%+ 


Jz.  Penultimate  clause. 

|  S  (Emotion. 

«S  fa.  Decided  and  remote,  to  express  ^  Sentiment. 

is  j 


.b.  Proximate  (by  short  steps) 


(Thought. 

{Climax. 
Anticlimax. 
Parenthesis. 


PITCH.  139 


PITCH. 

Pitch  is  the  degree  of  elevation  of  the  voice,  or  its  posi- 
tion upon  the  diatonic  scale. 

A  scale  is  a  series  of  sounds  arranged  in  continuous  as- 
cent or  descent,  by  measured  intervals  from  any  pitch  or 
key-note. 

It  is  diatonic  or  semitonic.  The  former  ascends  or  de- 
scends mostly  by  whole  tone  intervals,  two  half  tones  occur- 
ring once  only  in  every  seven. 

The  semitonic  or  chromatic  scale*  ascends  and  descends 
altogether  by  half-tone  intervals. f 

An  interval  is  the  distance  between  any  two  points  of  the 
scale. 

A  note  is  a  sound  at  any  given  point  in  the  scale. 

Key-note  is  the  first  note.  A  key  is  said  to  be  high,  mid- 
dle, or  low,  according  as  it  is  above,  on,  or  below  the  natu- 
ral or  ordinary  elevation. 

A  high  key  is  any  key  above  the  middle  or  natural  voice, 
and  is  used  in  calling,  shouting,  commanding,  etc. 

A  middle  key  is  the  one  used  in  common  conversation, 
and,  owing  either  to  the  structure  of  the  vocal  organs  or  to 
habit,  it  varies  with  different  people.  It  is  used  in  narra- 
tive or  unimpassioned  language. 

A  low  key  is  any  key  below  the  middle  or  natural  voice, 
and  is  used  in  expressing  revenge,  solemnity,  etc. 

The  high  and  low  keys  are  more  commonly  heard  at  a 
third,  a  fifth,  or  an  octave  above  or  below  the  middle  key. 

When  the  voice  slides  from  one  note  of  the  scale  to  an- 
other, higher  or  lower,  the  distance  is  called  a  concrete  inter- 
val ;  when  the  voice  steps  from  one  note  to  another  more  re- 

*  "The  name  chromatic  is  derived  from  the  fact  that  the  intermediate 
tones  were  formerly  written  and  printed  in  colors. " — Webster. 

t  The  diatonic  scale  is  represented  by  the  successive  white  keys  of  a  pi- 
ano ;  the  semitonic  by  the  white  and  black  keys  successively. 


140  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

mote  without  a. continuous  sound,  the  interval  is  called  dis- 
crete. Hence  the  interval  between  the  first  and  second  notes 
of  a  scale  may  be  either  a  discrete  or  a  concrete  interval  of 
a  tone.  The  distance  from  the  first  note  to  the  third  of  a 
scale  is  called  a  discrete  or  a  concrete  interval  of  a  third, 
and  the  difference  between  the  first  and  fifth  is  called  a  dis- 
crete or  a  concrete  interval  of  a  fifth,  etc. 

HIGH  KEYS. 

A  third  above  is  a  key  three  notes  above  the  middle  key, 
and  is  used  to  make  a  number  of  people  hear  at  the  same 
time. 

A  fifth  above  is  a  key  five  notes  above  the  middle  key, 
and  is  used  in  lively  and  humorous  delivery. 

An  octave,  or  eighth  above,  is  a  key  eight  notes  above  the 
middle  key,  and  is  used  in  spirited  declamation. 

LOW   KEYS. 

A  third  below  is  a  key  three  notes  below  the  middle  key, 
and  is  used  in  expressing  dignified  sentiment. 

A  fifth  below  is  a  key  five  notes  below  the  middle  key, 
and  is  used  in  giving  utterance  to  solemn  and  impressive 
thought. 

An  octave,  or  eighth  below,  is  a  key  eight  notes  below  the 
middle  key,  and  is  used  in  language  of  deep  solemnity. 

MONOTONE. 

In  elocution,  monotone  is  voice  seemingly  unvaried  in 
pitch.  It  expresses  awe,  reverence,  solemnity,  sublimity, 
grandeur,  majesty,  power,  splendor,  amazement,  all  vastness 
and  force,  and  all  preternatural  emotions.  It  is  also  used, 
in  legal  and  statistical  statefnents,  where  emotion  is  unnec- 
essary. In  music,  monotone  is  absolute  or  uniform  same- 
ness of  sound. 

/VARIATIONS    OF   PITCH. 

A  change  or  variation  of  pitch  on  a  single  note  or  syllable 
is  inflection;  on  successive  notes  or  syllables  it  is  melody.       y 


PITCH.  141 

MELODY. 

Melody  is  a  pleasing  succession  of  sounds  in  varied  pitch. 
In  reading  or  speaking,  melody  consists  principally  of  inflec- 
tions and  transitions  of  pitch,  or  modulation.* 

Melody  is  diatonic  or  semitonic,  the  former  being  the  pro- 
gression of  pitch  through  the  interval  of  a  whole  tone,  the 
latter  through  that  of  a  half  tone  or  semitone.  Diatonic 
melody  is  used  in  narration,  or  to  express  simple  thought ; 
Bemitonic  to  express  supplication,  entreaty,  etc. 

Examples  of  Diatonic  Melody. 
"The  cynic  is  one  who  never  sees  a  good  quality  in  a 
man,  and  never  fails  to  see  a  bad  one.  He  is  the  human 
owl,  vigilant  in  darkness  and  blind  to  light,  mousing  for  ver- 
min, and  never  seeing  noble  game.  The  cynic  puts  all  hu- 
man actions  into  only  two  classes,  openly  bad  and  secretly 
bad.  He  holds  that  no  man  does  a  good  thing  except  for 
profit.  It  is  impossible  to  indulge  in  such  habitual  severity 
of  opinion  uponvour  fellow-men  without  injuring  the  tender- 
ness and  delicacy  of  our  own  feelings.  A  man  will  be  what 
his  most  cherished  feelings  are.  If  he  encourages  a  noble 
generosity,  every  feeling  will  be  enriched  by  it ;  if  he  nurse 
bitter  and  envenomed  thoughts,  his  own  spirit  will  absorb 
the  poison,'and  hd  will  crawl  among  men  a  burnished  adder, 
whose  life  is  mischief,  and  whose  errand  is  death." — BEECH- 
SB. 

Examples  of  Semitonic  Melody. 
"Pity  the  sorrows  of  a  poor  old  man, 
Whose  trembling  limbs  have  borne  him  to  your  door." 

Thomas  Moss. 

"  The  poor  man  alone,  when  he  hears  the  poor  moan, 
Of  his  morsel  a  morsel  will  give. 

Well-a-day !"  Thomas  Holcroft. 

*  Melody  differs  from  harmony  in  that  the  latter  is  a  pleasing  union  of 
melodies,  while  the  former  is  a  succession  of  sounds  constituting  one  melody. 


142  MANUAL   OF   READING. 


INFLECTION. 

Inflection  is  the  variation  of  pitch  on  a  single  note  or 
sound ;  a  bending  or  turning  of  the  voice  either  upward  or 
downward  on  a  single  sound  or  syllable. 

Inflections  are  distinguished  as  simple  and  compound ;  the 
latter  are  more  commonly  known  as  waves.  When  any  of 
these  variations  in  pitch  (whether  simple  or  compound)  end 
in  an  upward  turn  of  voice,  they  are  called  rising  inflections, 
and  when  they  end  in  a  downward  turn  of  voice  they  are 
termed  falling  inflections. 

As  in  discrete  sounds,  the  beginning  of  an  inflection  is 
known  as  its  "  radical"  and  the  end  as  its  "  vanish"  or  close. 

A  simple  inflection  is  a  single  upward  or  downward  move- 
ment of  voice  in  reading  and  speaking,  and  is  distinguished 
as  rising  (indicated  by  this  mark,  ^)  or  falling  (indicated  by 
this  mark,  ^),  according  as  its  vanish  is  above  or  below  its 
radical. 

A  simple  rising  inflection  is  a  single  upward  slide  of  the 
voice,  and  suggests  incomplete  sense. 

It  is  used  in  direct  (and,  in  case  of  repetition,  in  indirect) 
interrogation,  in  unemphatic  negation,  and  in  exclamations 
of  inquiry;  as, 

{Direct  Interrogation.}    Have  you  read  the  story  of  Ruth  ? 

{Indirect  Interrogation. )    What  did  you  say  ? 

{Unemphatic  Negation.}    I  would  rather  not. 

{Exclamation  of  Inquiry.)  Ah  !  Hallo !  (meaning  "Is  that  true?"  in  the 
first,  and  "  It's  you,  is  it  ?"  in  the  last  interjection. 

A  simple  falling  inflection  is  a  single  downward  slide  of 
the  voice,  and  suggests  complete  sense.  It  is  used  in  ex- 
clamation, affirmation,  emphatic  negation,  and  in  all  impera- 
tive expressions ;  as, 

{Exclamation.)    Truth  is  eternal. 

{Negation.)    I  tell  you  I  will  not. 

{Imperative.)    Get  thee  hence !     Leave  me!     Go! 

A  compound  inflection,  or  ivave,  is  the  union  of  two  or 
more  simple  inflections  upon  a  single  sound  or  syllable,  and 
expresses  surprise,  scorn,  contempt,  sarcasm,  mockery,  rail- 


PITCH.  143 

leiy,  irony,  wit,  admiration,  sorrow,  and  often  a  contrast  of 
meaning.  Example :  Is  that  the  law  ?  Waves  are  classed 
as  single  or  double. 

A  single  wave  is  the  union  of  two  simple  inflections,  and 
a  double  wave  is  the  union  of  more  than  two  simple  inflec- 
tions.* 

Single  waves  are  termed  equal  when  the  ascent  and  de- 
scent are  equal,  otherwise  unequal. 

A  single  rising  wave  begins  with  the  simple  falling  inflec- 
tion, and  ends  with  the  simple  rising  inflection ;  as, 

(Equal  Wave.)    Gone  to  be  friends ! 

(Unequal  Wave.)    Must  I  budge?  must  I  observe  you? 

A  single  falling  wave  begins  with  the  simple  rising  inflec- 
tion, and  ends  with  the  simple  falling  inflection;  as, 
(Equal  Wave.)    So,  you  have  come. 
(Unequal  Wave.)  "Tell  me  I  hate  the  bowl? 

I  loathe,  abhor — my  very  soul 
With  strong  disgust  is  stirred 
Whene'er  I  see,  or  hear,  or  tell 
Of  the  dark  beverage  of  hell." 

A  double  rising  wave  is  a  union  of  three  simple  inflections, 
beginning  and  ending  with  an  upward  turn  of  voice ;  as,  in 
the  play  of  Julius  Cossar,  where  Cassius  says  to  Brutus, 
"  You  love  me  not !"  Brutus  replies,  "  I  do  not  love  your 
faults  /'  and  in  The  School  for  Scandal,  where  Sheridan 
makes  Sir  Peter  say  to  Lady  Teazle,  in  the  quarrel  scene, 
"  Oons,  madam !  if  you  had  been  born  to  this,  I  should  not 
wonder  at  your  talking  thus ;  but  you  forget  what  your  sit- 
uation was  when  I  married  you."  To  which  she  replies, 
"  No,  no,  I  don't ;  'twas  a  very  disagreeable  one,  or  I  should 
never  have  married  you" 

A  double  falling  wave  is  the  union  of  three  simple  inflec- 
tions, beginning  and  ending  with  a  downward  turn  of  voice ; 
as, 

They  cry  for  peace,  when  there  is  no  peace. 

*  The  Irish  tone  is  replete  with  the  simple  falling  wave,  and  the  Scotch 
with  the  simple  rising  wave. 


144  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

DEGREES    OF   INTERVALS. 

A  degree  or  interval  of  inflection  is  the  space  upon  the 
scale  swept  by  the  voice  at  one  turn  or  slide. 

The  intensity  of  the  speaker  decides  the  length  of  intervals, 
which  is  never  less  than  a  quarter  tone,  and  seldom  exceeds 
an  octave. 

These  intervals  are  commonly  a  third,  a  fifth,  or  an  oc- 
tave ;  i.  e.  they  include  a  variation  of  three,  five,  or  eight 
notes  from  the  radical  or  opening  pitch. 

The  rising  third  is  used  in  moderate  interrogation,  empha- 
sis, and  expressions  of  surprise ;  as, 

(Interrogation.}    Is  it  yours  ? 

(Emphasis.)    No,  it  is  not  mine,  but  Mary's. 

The  falling  thir  d  expresses  emotions  of  mockery,  derision, 
impetuosity,  and  courage ;  as, 

(Mockery.)  "What  drugs,  what  charms,  what  conjuration,  and  what 
mighty  magic. " — Shakspeare. 

(Derision.)  "  O  excellent  interpreter  of  the  laws !  corrector  and  amend- 
er  of  our  Constitution!" — Cicero. 

(Courage.)     "Hurrah!  the  foes  are  moving.     Hark  to  the  mingled  din 
Of  fife,  and  steed,  and  trump,'  and  drum,  and  roaring  cul- 
verin !" — Macaulay. 

The  rising  fifth  expresses  emotions  of  wonder,  admiration, 
inquiry,  doubt,  and  interrogation,  and  emphasis  stronger 
than  is  expressed  by  the  rising  third ;  as, 

(Interrogation    ("I  said  an  elder  soldier,  not  a  better. 
and  Emphasis.)  \    Did  I  say  better?" — Julius  Caesar. 

(Strong  Emphasis. )  ' '  Fail ! 

In  the  lexicon  of  youth,  which  Fate  reserves 
For  a  bright  manhood,  there  is  no  such  word 
As— fail!" — Bulwer's  Play  of  Richelieu. 

The  falling  fifth  expresses  determination,  indignant  t& 
buke,  and  excessive  grief;  as, 

(Determination.)    "  'To  arms!  to  arms!'  cried  Mortimer, 

And  couched  his  quivering  lance." — Gray. 

(Rebuke.)  "  Yet  this  is  Rome, 

That  sat  on  her  seven  hills,  and  from  her  throne 
Of  beauty  ruled  the  world." — Mitford. 


PITCH.  145 

r  "Grant  me  another  year,  God  of  my  spirit, 
But  a  day  to  win  something  to  satisfy 
(bupph-  J     ij^-g  thirst  within.     I  would  know  something  here. 
ca  ton.)        Break  for  me  but  one  seal  that  is  unbroken, 

i    Speak  for  me  but  one  word  that  is  unspoken." — Willis. 

A  rising  octave  expresses  the  most  forcible  interrogation 
and  emphasis,  contempt,  mirth,  raillery,  and  astonishment ; 
as, 

(Interrogation.)    You  come  to  teach  the  people  ? 

Gesler.  "  You  look  upon  your  boy 

As  though  instinctively  you  guessed  it, 

(  Tell.       Look  upon  my  boy  ?    What  mean  you  ? 
(Astonish'  )  Look  upon  my  boy.  ag  tn0Ugh  i  guessed  it— 

.       (.  •  Guessed  the  trial  you'd  have  me  make?" — Knowles. 

A  falling  octave  expresses  intense  scorn  and  indignation ; 

as,  ^ 

You  pretend  to  teach  a  British  general! 

Speech  of  Lord  Chancellor  Thurlow  in  reply  to  the 
Duke  of  Grafton. 

1.  My  Lords, — lam  amazed  at  the  attack  the  noble  duke 
has  made  upon  me.  Yes,  my  lords,  I  am  amazed  at  his 
grace's  speech.  The  noble  duke  can  not  look  before  him, 
behind  him,  or  on  either  side  of  him,  without  seeing  some 
noble  peer  who  owes  his  seat  in  this  house  to  his  successful 
exertions  in  the  'profession  to  which  I  belong. 

2.  Does  he  not  feel  that  it  is  as  honorable  to  owe  it  to 
these  as  to  being  the  accident  of  an  accident !  To  all  these 
noble  lords  the  language  of  the  noble  duke  is  as  applicable 
and  as  insulting  as  it  is  to  myself.  But  I  do  not  fear  to 
meet  it  single  and  alone.  No  one  venerates  the  peerage 
more  than  I  do ;  but,  my  lords,  I  must  say  that  the  peerage 
solicited  me — not  I  the  peerage. 

3.  Nay,  more ;  I  can  and  will  say,  that  as  a  peer  of  Parlia- 
ment, as  speaker  of  this  right  honorable  house,  as  keeper  of 
the  great  seal,  as  guardian  of  his  majesty's  conscience,  as 
lord  high  chancellor  of  England — nay,  even  in  that  character 
alone  in  which  the  noble  duke  would  think  it  an  affront  to 
be  considered — as  a  max,  I  am  at  this  moment  as  respects 

Q 


146  MANUAL    OF    HEADING. 

ble,  I  beg  leave  to  add,  as  much  respected,  as  the  proudest 
peer  I  now  look  down  upon. 

The  duke  had,  in  the  House  of  Lords,  reproached  Lord  Thurlow  with 
his  plebeian  extraction  and  his  recent  admission  to  the  peerage.  Lord 
Thurlow  rose  from  the  woolsack,  and,  fixing  on  the  duke  almost  the  look 
of  Jove  when  he  grasps  the  thunder,  he  spoke  as  above ;  and  the  effect  of 
his  speech  was  so  great  that  it  gave  him  an  ascendency,  both  within  the 
walls  of  the  House  and  out  of  them,  which  no  other  chancellor  ever  pos- 
sessed.    It  should  be  given  with  great  and  increasing  energy. 

RULES   FOR   INFLECTION.* 

Rule  1.  Exclamations  usually  take  the  falling  inflection-, 
as, 

11  Hurrah!  hurrah!  a  single  field  hath  turned  the  chance  of  war; 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  for  Ivry,  and  Henry  of  Navarre. " — Macaulay. 

Rule  2.  An  affirmative  clause  or  sentence  takes  the  falling 
inflection;  as, 

"The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fullness  thereof;  the 
world,  and  they  that  dwell  therein." — Psalm  xxiv. 

Note. — Indifferent  answers  to  questions  take  the  rising 
inflection ;  as  when,  in  reply  to  the  question  "  Which  do 
you  prefer?"  one  says,  "I  have  no  choice." 

Rule  3.  A  negative  clause  or  sentence  requires  the  rising 
inflection,  unless  made  emphatic  for  the  sake  of  force ;  as, 

*  A  few  rules  for  inflection  are  here  introduced,  which  may  prove  valuable 
in  the  hands  of  judicious  teachers.  No  one  of  them  should  be  given  with- 
out explanation  and  example  suited  to  the  comprehension  of  all  the  pupils 
in  the  class. 

Children  upon  the  play-ground,  or  in  unchecked  conversation,  give  the 
most  appropriate  and  natural  inflections  possible.  They  find  no  difficulty 
in  expressing  emotions  of  joy  or  sorrow,  hope  or  fear,  forgiveness  or  retalia- 
tion, whenever  these  emotions  are  excited.  These  are  true  models  of  ex- 
pression. But  as  soon  as  they  learn  to  conceal  their  feelings,  and  to  read 
or  speak  the  thoughts  of  others,  they  lose  this  property  of  intonation,  and 
acquire  mannerisms.  After  this,  much  time  and  money  is  often  required 
to  teach  them  how  to  do  mechanically  what  was  once  so  natural  and  invol- 
untary. 

In  giving  the  following  rules  and  illustrations,  the  teacher  should  be  sure 
that  the  class  understands  them,  and  can  make  practical  application  of  them 
to  examples  selected  from  the  book.  Unnecessary  pauses  and  undue  em- 
phasis should  be  avoided.  Let  the  examples  be  smoothly  and  continuously 
rendered,  so  that  every  sentence  may  be  borne,  as  it  were,  on  a  wave  of  sound. 


PITCH.  147 

(  Unemphatic.)    O  no !  that  is  not  the  law  ! 
(Emphatic.)    I  say  that  is  not  the  law ! 

Note. — When  a  negative  phrase  or  clause  is  contrasted 
with  an  affirmative  one,  whether  first  or  last  in  the  order  of 
construction,  the  rule  is  the  same ;  as, "  I  said  this  book,  not 
that;"  or,  "I  did  not  say  this  book,Jmt  that."  "It  was 
black,  not  white ;"  or, "  It  was  not  white,  but  black." 

Rule  4.  An  imperative  sentence  takes  the  falling  inflec- 
tion; as, 

"  Stride !  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires  ; 
Strilie !  for  your  altars  and  your  fires." 

"  Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard ;  consider  her  ways,  and  be 
wise." — Bible. 

"  Hence !  horrible  shadow  !" 

Rule  5.  A  direct  interrogation,  or  a  question  that  can  be 
answered  by  Yes  or  No,  takes  the  rising  inflection ;  as, 

"To  purchase  heaven  has  gold  the  power? 
Can  gold  remove  the  mortal  hour  ? 
In  life  can  love  be  bought  with  gold,? 
Are  friendship's  pleasures  to  be  sold  ?" 

Note. — When,  by  strong  emphasis  on  the  first  or  auxilia- 
ry verb,  a  direct  question  anticipates  an  affirmative  reply,  it 
takes  a  falling  inflection ;  as,  "Is  this  true  ?  Can  you  be- 
lieve it  ?    Has  not  reason  prevailed  ?" 

Rule  6.  An  indirect  interrogation,  or  a  question  that  can 
not  be  answered  by  Yes  or  No,  takes  the  falling  inflection ;  as, 

"  Who  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord,  and  who 
shall  stand  in  his  holy  place  ?" — Bible. 

Note  1. — If  the  question  be  repeated,  it  takes  the  rising 
inflection ;  as,  "  Which  way  did  you  say  ?" 

Note  2. — Sometimes  the  meaning  of  a  question  is  decided 
by  an  inflection,  making  it  direct  or  indirect ;  as,  "  Will  you 
read  Pope  or  Milton?"  Ans.  "Pope."  It  is  a  direct  ques- 
tion when  both  nouns  receive  the  rising  inflection ;  as,  "Will 
you  read  Pop'e  or  Milton  ?"     "  Yes." 

Rule  7.  Words  or  phrases  in  apposition  take  the  same  in- 
flection ;  as, 

"Absalom,  my  son,  was  my  staff." 
;     "  Victoria  is  the  daughter  of  Edward,  duke  of  Kent." 


148  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

a  We  will  go  to  Brooklyn,  the  City  of  Churches." 
Rule  8.  Words  or  phrases  in  contrast  or  antithesis  take 
opposite  inflection ;  as, 

f  "They  sang  of  love,  and  not  of  fame — 
(Single  An-  J  Forgot  was  Britain's  glory ; 

tithesis.)     \      Each  heart  recalled  a  different  name, 

{         But  all  sang  'Annie  Laurie. ' " — Bayard  Taylor. 

(Double  Antithesis.)  "  The  difference  between  a  madman 
and  a  fool  is,  the  former  reasons  justly  from  false  data,  and 
the  latter  erroneously  from  just  data." 

"Prosperity  gains  friends;  adversity  tries  them." 
"  It  is  harder  to  avoid  censure  than  to  gain  applause." 
Rule  9.  Words  or  phrases  in  a  parenthesis,  suspending 
the  sense,  take  the  rising  inflection ;  as, 

"But  here's  a  parchment  with  the  seal  of  Ca3sar. 
I  found  it  in  his  closet :  'tis  his  will. 
Let  but  the  commons  hear  this  testament 
(Which,  pardon  me,  I  do  not  mean  to  read), 
And  they  would  go  and  kiss  dead  Caesar's  wounds, 
And  dip  their  napkins  in  his  sacred  blood — 
Yea,  beg  a  hair  of  him  for  memory, 
And,  dying,  mention  it  within  their  wills, 
Bequeathing  it  as  a  rich  legacy 
Unto  their  issue." — Shakspeare. 

Rule  10.  Words  or  phrases  in  a  parenthesis,  making  addi- 
tion to  the  complete  sense,  take  the  falling  inflection ;  as, 

"  In  fact,  there's  nothing  that  keeps  its  youth, 
So  far  as  I  know,  but  a  tree  and  truth. 
(This  is  a  moral  that  runs  at  large ; 
Take  it. — You're  welcome. — No  extra  charge.)" — Holmes. 

Note. — When  the  sense  is  reopened  by  the  parenthetical 
addition,  the  voice  is  kept  up  at  the  close  of  the  parenthesis. 

SERIES. 

A  series  is  a  succession  of  particulars,  at  least  three  in 
number.  Series  are  classed  as  simple  and  compound,  either 
of  which  may  be  a  commencing  or  a  concluding  series. 

A  simple  series  is  one  whose  members  are  single  in  word 
or  idea ;  as, 

In  my  garden  are  apples,  |  peaches,  |  plums,  |  and  pears.  J 


PITCH.  149 

A  Series  is  compound  when  the  members  comprise  several 
words,  or  convey  more  than  one  idea ;  as, 

"  From  every  battle-field  of  the  Revolution — from  Lexing- 
ton and  Bunker  Hill — from  Saratoga  and  Yorktowii — from 
the  fields  of  Eutaw — from  the  cane-brakes  that  sheltered  the 
men  of  Marion,  the  repeated,  long-prolonged  echoes  came  up, 
'  The  Union  :  it  must  be  preserved.'  " — Bancroft.  j 

A  series  is  commencing  when  the  sense  is  not  complete  at 
the  close  of  the  series ;  as, 

Men,  |  women,  |  and  children  |  were  seen  in  the  park. 

A  series  is  concluding  when  the  sense  is  complete  with 
the  series ;  as, 

I  saw  in  the  park  men,  |  women,  |  and  children.  | 

Mules  for  the  Inflection  of  Series. 

Rule  11.  A  simple  commencing  series  should  have  the 
rising  inflection  on  every  member  but  the  penultimate,  or 
last  but  one ;  as, 

(JVbans.)  Mary,  |  Sarah,  |  James,  |  and  John  |  were  at  the 
fair  last  week. 

(Adjectives.)  A  beautiful,  |  accomplished,  |  and  amiable | 
lady  |  lives  in  the  house  on  the  hill.* 

(  Verbs.)  He  sees,  hears,  and  feels  as  well  as  ever  he  did. 

Rule  12.  A  simple  concluding  series  takes  the  rising  in* 
flection  on  every  member  but  the  ultimate,  or  last ;  as, 

At  the  fair  last  week  I  saw  Mary,  Sarah,  James,  and  Jofih. 

In  the  house  on  the  hill  lives  a  lady,  beautiful,  accom- 
plished, and  amiable. 

He  can  still  hear,  see,  and  feel. 

Rule  13.  A  compound  commencing  series  takes  the  fall- 
ing inflection  on  every  member  but  the  ultimate,  or  last, 
which  takes  a  strong  rising  inflection ;  as,  t 

(<)  "From  every  valley  in  our  land,  |  from  every  cabin 
on  the  pleasant   mountain   sides,  |  from  the   ships   at  our  ' 
wharves,  |  from  the  tents  of  the  hunter  in  our  westernmost  : 
prairies,  |  from  the  living  minds  of  the  living  millions  of  ; 
American  freemen,  |  from  the  thickly  coming  glories  of  fu- 

*  A  series  of  adjectives  takes  the  noun  as  one  of  its  members,  in  the 
application  of  the  rule  for  inflection. 


150  MANUAL   OP   BEADING. 

turity,  |  the  shout  went  up,  like  the  sound  of  many  waters, 
*  The  Union  :  it  must  and  shall  be  preserved.'  " — Ban- 
croft. 

Commence  this  series  in  moderate  time  and  force,  and  increase  in  volume 
to  the  last  member  of  the  series,  which  receives  a  full  rising  inflection. 

Rule  14.  A  compound  concluding  series  takes  the  falling 
inflection  on  every  member  but  the  penultimate,  or  last  but 
one;  as, 

".We  hold  these  truths  to  be  self  evident :  that  all  men 
are  created  equal ;  |  that  they  are  endowed  by  their  Creator 
with  certain  inalienable  rights ;  |  that  among  these  are  life, 
liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness ;  |" —  Const,  of  U.  S. 

Rule  15.  A  long  Series. — When  a  series  exceeds  five 
members,  divide  it  into  two  or  more  shorter  series,  and 
read  each  division  according  to  the  rule  which  would  apply 
to  the  entire  series ;  as, 

In  him  was  genius,  |  judgment,  |  memory,  |  learning,  |[  cir- 
cumspection, |  reflection,  |  application. 

The  series,  as  a  whole,  would  follow  the  rule  for  simple 
concluding  series  (ISTo.  12),  hence  each  of  the  shorter  series 
should  be  read  accprding  to  that  rule. 

Rule  16.  Antithetical  Series. — When  each  member  of  a 
series  contains  an  antithesis,  the  rule  for  antithesis  should 
be  applied  to  each  member,  and  the  whole  series  should  be 
read  according  to  the  rule  for  that  particular  series ;  as, 

"  Talent  is  power,  tact  is  skill ;  |  talent  is  weight,  tact  is 
momentum ;  |  talent  knows  what  to  do,  tact  knows  how  to 
do  it ;  |  talent  makes  a  man  respectable,  tact  will  make  him 
respected  ;  |  talent  is  wealth,  tact  is  ready  money.  |" — Lon- 
don Atlas. 

"  I  have  spoken  but  of  feelings  and  associations  common 
to  all  ages,  and  all  generations  of  men ;  |  to  the  rifde  and 
the  polished;  |  to  the  barbarian  and  the  civilized;  |  to  the 
bond  and  the  free ;  |  to  the  inhabitant  of  the  dreary  forests 
of  the  north  and  the  sultry  regions  of  the  south ;  |  to  the 
worshiper  of  the  sun,  and  the  worshiper  of  idols ;  |  to  the 
heathen,  dwelling  in  the  darkness  of  his  cold  mythology ;  | 
and  to  the  Christian,  rejoicing  in  the  light  of  the  true 
GocL  |w— Stobt. 

These  examples  follow  the  rule  for  compound  concluding 


PITCH.  151 

series  (No.  14),  while  each  antithesis  follows  the  rule  (No. 
8)  for  antithesis. 

Rule  17.  Irregular  Series. — When  a  series  is  mixed  in 
form,  being  part  simple  and  part  compound,  read  it  accord- 
ing to*  the  rule  for  compound  series,  with  such  inflections 
upon  the  members  of  the  simple  series  as  shall  not  interfere 
with  the  whole. 

"  Oh  for  a  prophet's  eye  to  look  into  the  future !  If  it 
be  the  destiny  of  America  to  administer  with  fidelity,  wis- 
dom, and  success  her  free  institutions  ;  |  to  spread  them  over 
the  whole  continent,  filling  it  with  a  numerous,  enlight- 
ened, industrious,  moral,  and  contented  people  —  one  in 
name,  one  in  government,  one  in  power ;  |  to  build  up  here 
an  empire,  the  last  and  the  noblest  offspring  of  Time,  |  this 
whole  accumulated  greatness  will  constantly  tend  to  exalt 
higher  and  higher  in  the  estimation  of  mankind  him  who  will 
forever  *be  deemed  the  founder  of  it  all." — Francis  C.  Gray. 

This  is  a  concluding  series  of  three  members  (beginning 
with  "to  administer,"  "to  spread,"  "to  build"),  and  con- 
tains three  simple  series,  one  in  the  first,  and  two  in  the 
second  member  of  the  series. 

SENTENTIAL  INFLECTIONS,  OR   CADENCES. 

Cadence  is  the  falling  of  the  voice  in  reading  or  speak- 
ing, especially  at  the  end  of  a  sentence. 

The  sentential  inflections  arise  from  the  construction  of 
sentences.  They  are  the  closing  slides,  or  cadence,  and  the 
rising  slide  upon  the  last  clause  before  the  cadence  called 
the  penultimate  slide. 

Rule  1.  The  full  cadence  of  complete  sense,  at  the  close 
of  a  full  period,  is  made  by  three  "  concretes,"*  gradually 
descending  in  their  radical  pitch  ;  as, 

"  The  mean  of  true  valor  lies  between  the  extremes  of 
cowardice  and  rashness." — Cervantes. 

(cowardice  ancl  rash        x 
ness. ) 

*  Sounds,  it  must  be  remembered,  are  discrete  when  separate  or  de- 
tached, and  concrete  when  blended  or  united  in  succession,  so  as  to  dis- 
cover no  joinings.  The  former  are  illustrated  by  touching  successive  keys 
of  the  piano,  and  the  latter  by  sliding  the  hands  along  the  strings  of  a 
violin  while  drawing  the  bow. 


152  MANUAL   OF  HEADING. 

Rule  2.  "  The  partial  cadence  of  complete  sense,  but  in- 
complete period,  has  the  rising  ditone*  on  the  first  and 
second  of  the  three  closing  syllables,  and  the  concrete  of  the 
second  with  a  downward  vanish  on  the  third." — Russel. 

"Feelings  come  and  go  like  light  troops  following  the 
victory  of  the  present ;  but  principles,  like  troops  of  the 
line,  are  undisturbed  and  stand  fast." — Richtee. 

Rule  3.  The  penultimate  is  the  upward  slide  of  voice  be- 
fore the  full  cadence ;  as, 

"  He  who  considers  himself  a  paragon  of  wisdom  is  sure 
to  commit  some  superlatively  stupid  act." — Tieck. 

Transition  or  Modulation. 

Transition  or  modulation  is  a  changing  of  the  pitch-note 
to  a  higher,  or  lower  degree  of  elevation,  in  obedience  to 
emotion,  sentiment,  or  thought.  It  is  generally  attended 
with  a  change  of  both  force  and  time. 

Modulation  may  be  decided  and  distant,  or  proximate,  by 
short  steps.  The  decided  transition  is  a  sudden  change  from 
one  key  to  another  several  notes  above  or  below  that  key. 
It  is  used  to  express  a  contrast,  or  change  of  emotion,  senti- 
ment, or  thought. 

{Jf.IIigh.)  "Give  me  another  horse!  bind  up  my  wounds  ! 

Have  mercy,  Jesu  !     {pp.  Low.)  Soft,  I  did  but  dream." 

Shakspeare. 

("  Try  nofr  the  pass !"  (m.)  the  old  man  said. 
{High.)      <  "  Dark  lowers  the  tempest  overhead ; 

(The  roaring  torrent's  deep  and  wide !" 
{Medium.)   And  loud  that  clarion  voice  replied, 
{High. )        ' '  Excelsior ! " — Longfellow. 

The  proximate  transition  is  a  change  from  one  key  to  an- 
other not  far  distant,  which  may  be  continued  from  word  to 
word,  or  phrase  to  phrase,  up  or  down  the  scale,  as  emotion 
or  thought  indicates.  It  is  used  to  express  climax  and  anti- 
climax. One  step  below  is  used  in  parenthetical  words  or 
passages,  also  to  place  unimportant  allusions  and  explana- 
tions in  the  background,  so  to  speak,  of  the  main  thought. 

{Climax.)  "If  I  were  an  American,  as  I  am  an  English- 
*  An  interval  comprehending  two  whole  tones. 


PITCH. 


153 


man,  while  a  foreign  troop  was  landed  in  my  country,  I  nev* 
er  would  lay  down  my  arms — NEVER,  never,  never" 

(Parenthesis.)  "  That  patriotism  which  (catching  its  inspi- 
ration from  God)  animates  and  prompts  to  deeds  of  self-sac* 
rifice,  of  valor,  of  devotion,  and  of  death  itself— that  is  pub- 
lic virtue,  that  is  the  noblest,  the  sublimest  of  all  public 
virtues." 

There  is  a  transition  of  syllables  which  seems  very  nearly 
related  to  inflection.  These  turns  of  voice  correspond  with 
compound  inflections  or  waves  so  precisely  as  to  be  called 
inflections  by  those  who  have  not  compared  them.  Thus 
the  compound  rising  wave  of  a  third  may  take  the  notes 


mi,  do,  mi 


dp) 


concretely. 


Give  this  turn  or  slide  to  one  syllable  or  sound,  and  it  is 
inflection ;  when,  however,  it  be  given  to  three  successive 
syllables  or  monosyllables,  it  is  not  inflection,  but  transition ; 
for  a  syllable  being  one  impulse  of  voice,  a  turn  or  slide  of 
voice  can  not  be  given  to  more  than  one  syllable  concretely, 
but  will  be  divided  into  as  many  discretes  as  there  are  syl- 
lables. ,  If  this  be  true  of  the  syllables  of  a  word,  it  is  also 
true  of  successive  syllables  that  do  not  belong  to  one  word, 
and  would  include  an  unlimited  number  of  inflections,  while 
it  destroyed  the  simplicity  of  transitions. 


NoUs. 


Examples. 

Transitions  on 


Transitions  on  mono- 


G  '-&•  m- 

m 

ven 

in, 

-<3>-    """      -&- 

No. 

Wan     ca. 

Go       7  sir. 

r-mcZJ 


Iven-. — JyT 


IcEne  — rrT_me.' 


So  con        lent  Come  with 


ZaT^geflT: 
G2 


-Can 


-<S>- 


-S>. 


alF 


you  himT 


154 


MANUAL   OF  READING. 


TABLE  NO.  31.    FORCE. 

fl.  Very  soft,    marked  pp.  (pianissimo). 


'I.  Divisions 
of 


II.  Applied 
to  a 


2.  Soft, 

3.  Middle, 

4.  Loud, 

^5.  Very  loud, 


1.  Sound  is  stress 


2.  Syllable  is  accent 


3.  Word  is  emphasis 


h.  Phrase  or  sentence 


p.  (piano) . 

m.  (mezzo), 

f.  (forte), 

ff.  (fortissimo). 


r  A.  Kinds 


{Radical,  marked  : 
Final,  "       ■ 

Median,  "     -c 

Compound,  "  > 
Thorough,  "  , 
Tremor,  "      * 


{Effusive. 
Expulsive. 
Explosive. 

(  A.  Primary,  or  tonic. 
\B.  r 


Secondary,  or  euphonic, 

r Sense 


(Absolute  )    (Single. 
(Antithetic/    (Double. 


L  Emotion 


(single 


(Exclamation* 
(Repetition. 
(  Cumulative. 


f  Uniformly  is  sustained  force. 


^Varied 


( Irregularly. 


*  Volume  is  force  and  quantity  combined. 

t  Regularly  increasing  and  decreasing  in  force  to  the  close  or  to  the  middle  of  a 
Dhraae  or  sentence  producing  climax  and  anti-climax.    See  Table  No.  10,  not*  16. 


FORCE.  155 


DYNAMICS,  OR  FORCE. 

Dynamics  treats  of  the  power  or  force  of  sounds. 

Force  is  the  result  of  action.  In  plocution,  force  is  the 
degree  of  energy  with  which  words  are  spoken.  Degrees 
of  force  depend  upon  the  intensity  of  the  given  power.  They 
arc  indefinite  in  number,  but  three  are  deemed  sufficient  for 
reference.  1st,  soft  or  weak;  2d,  middle  or  moderate;  and, 
3d,  heavy  or  strong.  % 

Note. — Force  should  not  be  confounded  with  loudness, 
because  sound  can  be  produced  with  great  force  in  a  whis- 
per as  well  as  in  a  shout. 

1.  Soft  or  weak  utterance  is  the  result  of  little  exertion, 
whether  arising  from  organic  weakness  or  from  sentiment. 
It  expresses  pity,  admiration,  endearment,  tenderness,  grief, 
and  the  like. 

{Pity.)  "  Give  me  three  grains  of  corn,  mother, 

Only  three  grains  of  corn ; 
It  will  keep  the  little  life  I  have 
Till  the  coming  of  the  morn. 
I  am  dying  of  hunger  and  cold,  mother, 

Dying  of  hunger  and  cold ; 
And  half  the  agony  of  such  a  death 

My  lips  have  never  told." — Mrs.  Edmund. 
{Endearment.)  "Look  at  me  with  thy  large  brown  eyes, 
Philip,  my  king, 
Round  whom  the  shadowing  purple  lies 

Of  babyhood's  royal  dignities. 
Lay  on  my  neck  thy  tiny  hand, 

With  love's  invisible^ceptre  laden. 
*   I  am  thine,  Esther,  to  command 

Till  thou  shalt  find  a  queen  handmaiden, 

Philip,  my  king."— Miss  Mulock. 

(  Whisper.)  "  Breathe  it  not  aloud ;  the  wild  winds  must  not  hear  it." 

2.  Middle  or  moderate  utterance  is  the  result  of  little  en- 
ergy or  exertion.  It  expresses  reverence,  and  is  /  used  in 
narration  and  description. 

(Narrative.)  "  The  Irish  peasant  has  at  all  periods  been 


loQ  MANUAL   OF  READING. 

peculiarly  distinguished  for  unbounded  but  indiscriminate 
hospitality.  To  be  in  want  or  misery  is  the  best  recommen- 
dation to  his  disinterested  protection ;  his  food,  his  bed,  his 
raiment  are  equally  the  stranger's  and  his  own ;  and  the 
deeper  the  distress,  the  more  welcome  is  the  sufferer  to  the 
peasant's  cottage." — Sir  J.  Barrington. 

(Description.')  "  Methought  I  saw  a  thousand  fearful  wrecks, 
A  thousand  men  that  fishes  gnawed  upon, 
Wedges  of  gold,  great  anchors,  heaps  of  pearl, 
Inestimable  stones,  unvalued  jewels, 
All  scattered  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
Some  lay  in  dead  men's  skulls ;   and  in  those  holes 
Where  eyes  did  once  inhabit,  there  were  crept 
(As  'twere  in  scorn  of  eyes)  reflecting  gems 
That  wooed  the  slimy  bottom  of  the  deep, 
And  mocked  the  dead  bones  that  lay  scattered  by. " 

Shakspeare,  Dream  of  Clarence. 

{Reverence)  "  The  nation  rises  up  at  every  stage  of  his 
coming ;  cities  and  states  are  as  pall-bearers,  and  the  cannon 
beats  the  hours  in  solemn  progression ;  dead,  dead,  dead,  he 
yet  speaketh.  Is  Washington  dead?  Is  Hampden  dead? 
Is  David  dead  ?  Is  any  man  that  ever  was  fit  to  live  dead  ? 
Disenthralled  from  the  flesh,  and  risen  to  the  unobstructed 
sphere  where  passion  never  comes,  he  begins  his  illimitable 
work.  His  life  is  now  grafted  upon  the  Infinite,  and  will  be 
fruitful  as  no  earthly  life  can  be.  Pass  on.  Four  years 
ago,  oh  Illinois,  we  took  from  your  midst  an  untried  man 
from  among  the  people.  Behold,  we  return  him  to  you  a  ' 
mighty  conqueror,  not  thine  any  more,  but  the  nation's ;  not 
ours,  but  the  world's.  Give  him  place,  oh  ye  prairies  !  In 
the  midst  of  this  great  continent  his  dust  shall  rest,  a  sacred 
treasure  to  myriads,  who  shall  pilgrim  to  that  shrine  to  kin- 
dle anew  their  patriotism.  Ye  winds,  that  move  over  the 
mighty  spaces  of  the  West,  chant  his  requiem !  Ye  people, 
:  behold  the  martyr,  whose  drops  of  blood,  as  so  many  articu- 
late words,  plead  for  fidelity,  for  law,  for  liberty." — Beech- 
er's  Sermon  on  Lincoln. 

(Whisper.)  "  And  the  bridemaidens  whispered,  *  'Twere  better  by  far, 

To  have  matched  our  fair  cousin  with  young  Lochinvar. ' " 

Scott. 


FORCE.  157 

3.  Heavy  or  strong  utterance  is  the  result  of  great  energy 
or  exertion.  It  expresses  anger,  defiance,  and  command.  It 
is  used  in  calling,  shouting,  rage,  and  fear. 

Ex.  {Anger.)  "  So  you  will  fly  out !  can't  you  be  cool  like 
me  ?  What  good  can  passion  do  ?  Passion  is  of  no  service, 
you  impudent,  insolent,  overbearing  reprobate  !  There  you 
sneer  again  !  Don't  provoke  me !  but  you  rely  upon  the 
mildness  of  my  temper,  you  do,  you  dog :  you  play  upon  the 
meekness  of  my  disposition  !  yet  take  care ;  the  patience  of 
a  saint  may  be  overcome  at  last !  But  mark !  I  give  you 
six  hours  and  a  half  to  consider  of  this :  if  you  then  agree, 
without  any  condition,  to  do  every  thing  on  earth  that  I 
choose,  why — confound  you,  I  may  in  time  forgive  you." — 
Sheridan,  The  Rivals. 

(Defiance.)  "  I  loathe  you  with  my  bosom !  I  scorn  you  with  mine  eye ! 

And  I'll  taunt  you  with  my  latest  breath,  and  fight  you  till  I 

die! 
I  ne'er  will  ask  for  quarter,  and  I  ne'er  will  be  your  slave, 
But  I'll  swim  the  sea  of  slaughter  till  I  sink  beneath  the 
wave." — The  Seminole's  Reply. 
CCommand.)  "  Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more, 
Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead ! 
In  peace,  there's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man 
As  modest  stillness  and  humility ; 
But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears, 
Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger ; 
Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 
Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favored  rage : 
Now  set  the  teeth,  and  stretch  the  nostrils  wide ; 
Hold  hard  the  breath,  and  bend  up  every  spirit 
To  his  full  height !     On,  on,  you  noble  English, 
Whose  blood  is  fet  from  fathers  of  war-proof — 
Fathers  that,  like  so  many  Alexanders, 
Have  in  these  parts  from  morn  till  even  fought, 
And  sheathed  their  swords  for  lack  of  argument. 
I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips, 
Straining  upon  the  start :  the  game's  afoot ; 
Follow  your  spirit ;  and  upon  this  charge 
Cry,  God  for  Harry,  England,  and  St.  George!" 

Shaxspear*. 
(Calling.)      "How  yet  resolves  the  governor  of  the  town  ? 
This  is  the  latest  parle  we  will  admit. 
Therefore  to  our  best  mercy  give  yourselves ; 


158  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Or,  like  to  men  proud  of  destruction, 

Defy  us  to  our  worst ;  for,  as  I  am  a  soldier 

(A  name  that  in  my  thoughts  becomes  me  best), 

If  I  begin  the  battery  once  again, 

I  will  not  leave  the  half-achieved  Harfleur 

Till  in  her  ashes  she  lie  buried. 

The  gates  of  mercy  shall  be  all  shut  up ; 

And  the  flushed  soldier,  rough  and  hard  of  heart, 

In  liberty  of  bloody  hand  shall  range, 

Mowing  like  grass  your  fresh,  fair  virgins 

And  your  flowering  infants. 

Therefore,  you  men  of  Harfleur, 
Take  pity  of  your  town  and  of  your  people 
While  yet  my  soldiers  are  in  my  command. " 

Shakspeare,  Henry  V, 
{Shouting.)     "  '  Jump,  far  out,  boy,  into  the  wave ! 
Jump,  or  I  fire !'  he  said ; 
•  This  chance  alone  your  life  can  save. 
Jump  !  JUMP !'    The  boy  obeyed. " — Geo.  P.  Morris. 
(Rage.)  "Mind  and  charge  home, 

Or,  by  the  fires  of  heaven,  I'll  leave  the  foe, 
And  make  my  wars  on  you :  look  to't !  come  on !" 

(Mar,  intense  Whisper.)  "Hark !  I  hear  the  bugles  of  the 
enemy  !  They  are  on  their  march  along  the  bank  of  the  riv- 
er. We  must  retreat  instantly,  or  be  cut  off  from  our  boats. 
I  see  the  head  of  their  column  already  rising  over  the  height. 
Our  only  safety  is  in  the  screen  of  this  hedge.  Keep  close 
to  it ;  be  silent ;  and  stoop  as  you  run.  For  the  boats  ! 
Forward  !" 

Additional  force  may  be  given  to  a  sound,  syllable,  word, 
phrase,  or  sentence. 

It  receives  the  name  stress  when  applied  to  a  sound,  ac- 
cent when  applied  to  a  syllable,  and  emphasis  when  applied 
to  a  word,  phrase,  or  sentence. 

Accent  produces  rhythm,  stress  expresses  more  or  less 
of  the  emotional  condition  of  the  speaker,  while  emphasis 
makes  plain  the  meaning  of  the  author. 

STRESS. 

Stress  is  the  special  application  of  force  to  some  part  of 
an  accented  sound  or  syllable.*    The  degrees  of  stress  are^ 
*  See  Accent,  p.  162. 


FORCE.  159 

three — effusive,  expulsive,  and  explosive  (i.  e.,  moderate,  full, 
and  abrupt  JT  ^  ^ 

!  1.  Effusive  stress  is  a  moderate  use  of  breath  or  voice  ma-  \  a  i* 
Iferial  while  producing  sounds,  and  indicates  a  placid  emo-  1  ]l/* 
tional  condition,  an  unruffled  temper ;  as,  — — ** 

"  Where,  where  will  be  the  birds  that  sing 
A  hundred  years  to  come  ? 
The  flowers  that  now  in  beauty  spring 
A  hundred  years  to  come?"  *  mi 

2.  Expulsive  stress  is  produced  by  forcibly  expelling  the 
breath  while  speaking  or  producing  sounds,  and  indicates  a     I    7 
more  positive  emotional  condition  or  earnestness  ofpuj>— ^ 
pose ;  as,  ^-^-^**-- 

"  There !  there  is  the  liquor  which  God,  the  eternal,  brews 
for  all  his  children  !  Not  in  the  simmering  still,  over  smok- 
ing fires,  choked  with  poisonous  gases,  and  surrounded  with 
the  stench  of  sickening  odors  and  rank  corruption,  doth 
your  Father  in  heaven  prepare  the  precious  essence  of  life, 
pure  cold  water;  but  in  the  green  glade  and  glassy  dell, 
where  the  wild  deer  wanders,  and  the  child  loves  to  play, 
there  God  himself  brews  it !" — Paul  Denton. 

3.  Explosive  stress  is  a  degree  of  force  produced  by  pro- 
jecting the  breath  abruptly  or  violently,  and  indicates  an 

*  intense  emotional  condition  ;  as, 
\^****^  "  See,  Boy  Briton,  see,  boy,  see ! 

They  strike !  hurrah  !  the  fort  has  surrendered ! 

Shout !  shout,  my  warrior  boy ! 
And  wave  your  cap,  and  clap  your  hands  with  joy ! 
Cheer  answer  cheer,  and  bear  the  cheer  about — 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !" — Wilson. 

Kinds  of  Stress. 
s  Every  sound  or  syllable  must  have  a  beginning,  a  middle, 
and  an  end,  and  force  applied  to  these  divisions  in  various 
ways  produces  six  kinds  of  stress;  viz.,  radical,  final,  me- 
dian, compound,  thorough,  and  intermittent  (or  tremor).  It 
is  called, 

1.  Radical  when  the  force  gradually  diminishes  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  the  sound  or  syllable.  When  in- 
tense, it  expresses  command,  anger,  defiance  (a,  e,  i,  o,  u). 


160  >  MANUAL   OF  READING. 

(Effusive.}      "Can  storied  urn  or  animated  bust 

Back  to  its  mansion  call  the  fleeting  breath  ? 
Can  honor's  voice  provoke  the  silent  dust, 

Or  flattery  soothe  the  dull,  cold  ear  of  death  ?" — Gray. 
(Expulsive.}      "Then  shook  the  hills  with  thunder  riven, 
Then  rushed  the  steed  to  battle  driven ; 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  heaven, 
Far  flashed  the  red  artillery." 

(^Explosive.}      "The  combat  deepens.     On,  ye  brave, 
Who  nish  to  glory  or  the  grave. 
Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave, 
And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry !" — Campbell. 

2.  Final,  when  the  force  gradually  increases  to  the  end 
of  the  sound  or  syllable,  and  closes  abruptly.  It  express- 
es contempt,  scorn,  impatience,  determination,  or  revenge 

(a,e,T,  o,u). 

(Effusive.}      "Click,  click,  click!  how  the  needles  go." 
(Expulsive.}      "Come  back!  come  back!  he  cried,  in  grief." 
(Explosive.}    "Speak!  speak!  thou  fearful  guest, 

Who,  with  thy  hollow  breast  still  in  rude  armor  dress'd, 

Com'st  to  haunt  me  !" 

3.  Median,  or  middle  stress,  when  the  force  is  greatest  at 
the  middle  of  the  sound  or  syllable.  It  is  smooth-flowing, 
and  expresses  reverence,  patriotism,  and  affection  (*a^   e# 

T    ^    T).  : 

(Effusive.}      "There's  a  land  far  away,  'mid  the  stars,  we  are  told, 
Where  they  know  not  the  sorrows  of  time ; 
Where  the  pure  waters  wander  through  valleys  of  gold, 
And  life  is  a  treasure  sublime." — Clark. 

(Expulsive.}    "  Now  glory  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  from  whom  all  glories  are, 
And  glory  to  our  sovereign  liege,  King  Henry  of  Navarre ! 
Now  let  there  be  the  meny  sound  of  mfisic  and  of  dance, 
Through  thy  corn-fields  green  and  sunny  vines,  O  pleasant , 
land  of  France. " — Macatjlay.- 

{Explosive.}      "  l  Cnarge,  Chester,  cfiarge !  onT  Stanley,"on!' 
Were  the  last  words  of  Marmion." — ScottC 

4.  Compound,  when  the  force  is  least  in  the  middle  of 
the  sound  or  syllable,  i.  e.,  the  force  gradually  decreases  to 


FORCE.  161 

the  middle  and  then  increases  to  the  end.     It  is  the  radical 
and  final  stress  united  on  one  syllable  or  sound  (a,    e, 
i,    o,    u ).     It  expresses  sarcasm,  irony,  extreme  surprise, 
petulance,  and  provocation. 

"Gone  to  be  married!  gone  to  swear  a  peace! 
False  blood  to  false  blood  joined !  gone  to  be  friends ! 
Shall  Louis  have  Blanche,  and  Blanche  these  provinces  ?" 

Shakspeare. 

5.  Thorough,  when  the  successive  syllables  have  little 
apparent  increase  or  diminution  of  force.  It  is  often  pro- 
duced with  beating  regularity,  like  staccato  in  music,  and 
expresses  command  or  hilarity,  and  is  used  in  calling,  warn- 

-ii  .  fl  p  ^.  Q   a 

ing,  and  threatening  (a,  e,  1,  o,  u). 

{Effusive.)        *'Good-by,  proud  world!  I'm  going  home. 

Thou'rt  not  my  friend,  and  I'm  not  thine." 

EMERSON. 

{Expulsive.)    "  If  men,  when  Wrong  beats  down  the  Right, 
Would  strike  together  and  restore  it ; 
If  Right  made  Might  in  every  fight, 
The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it." — Clark. 
CExylosive.)      "Flashed  all  their  sabres  bare, 
Flashed  as  they  turned  in  air, 
Sab 'ring  the  gunners  there ; 
Charging  an  army,  while 

All  the  world  wondered : 
Plunged  in  the  battery  smoke, 
Right  through  the  line  they  broke ; 
Cossack  and  Russian 
Reeled  from  the  sabre-stroke 

Shattered  and  sundered. 
Then  they  rode  back,  but  not, 
Not  the  Six  Hundred." — Tennyson. 

6.  Tremor,  when  the  voice  moves  unevenly  or  trembles 
on  the  syllables.  It  is  an  intermittent  stress,  and  expresses 
feebleness,  tenderness,  admiration,  and  subdued  grief  or  joy 

(1TT  7T   i,    o,    u ). 
(Effusive.)     Grief. 

"  'And  shall  I  never  see  thee  more, 
Mine  own  delightful  home ! 
Nor  fetterless  as  the  free  winds 
Among  thy  green  fields  roam? 


162  MANUAL   OP  READING. 

Those  singing  brooks !  and  shall  their  tones 
Be  never  in  mine  ear? 

And  those  dear  voices,  I  could  die 
But  only  once  to  hear. 

O  mother,  mother !'  " — Mrs.  Case,  Joan  of  Arc  in  Prison. 

(Expulsive.)  .  Age.  * 

"If  they  should  fire  on  Pickens,  let  the  colonel  in  command 
Place  me  upon  the  ramparts  with  the  flag-staff  in  my  hand. 
Nc*  odds  how  hot  the  cannon  smoke,  or  how  the  shells  may  fly, 
I'll  hold  the  stars  and  stripes  aloft,  and  hold  them  till  I  die." 

Bayard  Taylor. 

(Explosive.)     Intense  Grief  and  Supplication, 

"  l  O  spare  my  child  !  my  joy,  my  pride! 
O  give  me  back  my  boy!'  she  cried. 

4 My  child,  my  child!'  with  sobs  and  tears, 

She  shrieked  upon  his  calloused  ears.  "—Mack ay. 

^Accent* 
Accent  is  superior  force  applied  to  one  or  more  syllables 
of  a  word,  to  distinguish  them  from  others  in  the  same 
word,  as  ?mt'sic  al,  con  ver'ti  Ml'i  ty.     It  is  primary  and  sec- 
ondary. 

1.  Primary  when  the  force  is  greater  upon  one  syllable 
than  upon  any  other  in  the  word,  as  cir' cum.  stances. 

2.  Secondary  accent  sis  force  upon  one  or  more  syllables 
of  long  words,  less  strongly  marked  than  the  primary,  as 
cir'cum  stan'ces.  The  first  syllable  receives  the  primary 
and  the  third  the  secondary  accent. 

The  position  of  accent  often  decides  the  meaning  of  a 
word,  as  in  per'fume,  per  fume'.  This  belongs  to  a  class  of 
words  that  are  used  as  nouns  and  as  verbs.  The  nouns 
take  the  accent  on  the  first,  and  the  verbs  on  the  last  sylla- 
ble. 

JZmphasis. 

Emphasis  is  force  upon  one  or  more  words,  to  distinguish 
them  from  other  words  in  the  same  sentence. 

Emphasis  is  of  sense,  absolute  or  antithetic ;  and  of 
emotion,  single  or  cumulative. 

*  See  Stress,  page  158» 


FORCE.  163 

Emphasis*  of  sense  brings  out  the  meaning,  and  emphasis 
of  emotion  the  feeling  of  the  author. 

1.  It  is  absolute  when  used  to  express  sense;  as,  Go  now! 
"  In  all  ages  Love  is  the  truth  of  life." — Robertson. 

2.  Antithetic  when  used  on  words  in  contrast  and  com- 
parison ;  UI  said  an  elder  soldier,  not  a  better."  You  may 
ride,  but  I  shall  walk. 

3.  Single  emphasis  of  emotion  is  force  upon  single  words 
to  express  strong  feeling ;  as, 

"  Rise,  fellow-men,  our  country  yet  remains !" 

4.  Cumulative  emotional  emphasis  is  superior  force  on  a 
succession  of  words ;  as, 

"Heaven  for  Harry,  England,  and  St.  George  !" 
"The  Union:  it  must  and  shall  be  preserved." 

Force  upon  an  entire  phrase  or  sentence  should  be  con- 
sidered separately  with  regard  to  its  increase  or  diminution, 
called  climax  and  anticlimax.*  The  conditions  are  more  or 
less  in  accordance  with  the  following  statements. 

1.  Force  may  be  unchanged  throughout  an  entire  period. 

2.  It  may  increase  to  the  end  of  a  clause  or  sentence. 

3.  It  may  decrease  to  the  end  of  a  clause  or  sentence. 

4.  It  may  increase  to  the  middle,  and  decrease  to  the  end. 

5.  It  may  decrease  to  the  middle,  and  increase  to  the  end. 

6.  It  may  vary  irregularly  throughout  the  sentence. 

(Slow,  with\  1.  "  When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 
even  force.)S  The  line  too  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow." — Pope. 

(  <: )  2.  * '  In  a  clamorous  appealing  to  the  mercy  of  the  fire, 

In  a  mad  expostulation  with  the  deaf  and  frantic  fire." — Poe. 
(>)  3.    "  The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low, 

And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered  '  No.'  " — Mackay. 
(x)  4.  "How  the  danger  sinks  |  and  swells, 

(><)  By  the  sinking  or  |  the  swelling 

In  the  anger  of  the  bells." — Poe. 
(o).  5.  "  If  I  were  an  American,  while  a  foreign  troop  were  landed  in 
my  country,  I  never  would  lay  down  my  arms — NEVER,  never,  never." — 
^Lord  Chatham. 

(Irregular.)  6.  "Keep  yourself  from  opportunities,  and  God  wiU  keep 
you  from  sin.     Idleness  is  the  sepulchre  of  a  living  man." 

*  Volume  is  force  and  quantity  combined.  Full  volume  is  made  of 
much  force,  and  long  time  or  quantity. 


164 


MANUAL   OF   HEADING. 


Sound  (discrete 
notes  or  syl- 
lables) 


Silence  (rests 
or  pauses) 


Sounds  aud 
rests  compared 


fRate,  its 


L  Rhythm  of 


TABLE  NO.  32.    TIME. 
LoDg     jfMutable    {ggj^ 

Short    J    l.Immutable. 

(Sentential. 
Vocal  or  oratorical      ^Emotional. 
(Rhythmical. 

Grammatical. 

f     Names-Semi.        Minim.    Crotchet.     Quaver.     ^  ^^ 


0 


Notes 


Rests 


r  r 


Beats 
each 


t0}4        2        1 

Relative  distinctions  < '. 
t 


4 


uick. 
[oderate. 
Slow. 


L  Changes    < 


/rt^«/i„«i     (Increase  (accelerando). 
jUraauai    ^Decreage  (diminuendo) 

Sudden. 
Musical  sounds. 
Poetry  or  words. 


Motion 


Dancing. 

Fencing. 

Marching. 

Calisthenics. 

Trotting. 

Cantering,  etc 


TIME.  165 


I      ■ 

TIME. 

Time  is  a  measured  portion  of  duration.  In  elocution, 
time  is  a  measure  of  the  speed  of  utterance.  As  a  measure 
of  speed  of  utterance,  the  duration  or  quantity  of  single 
sounds  and  rests,  and  the  movement  of  successive  sounds 
and  rests,  must  be  considered. 

QUANTITY. 

Quantity  is  the  duration  or  length  of  single  sounds  and 
rests.  Some  sounds  are  naturally  and  necessarily  longer 
than  others ;  and  while  a  few,  both  long  and  short,  can  be 
prolonged,  others  can  not :  hence  they  may  be  classed  as 
immutable  (those  that  can  not  be  prolonged)  and  mutable 
(those  that  can  be  prolonged.)  The  latter,  being  capable 
of  definite  or  of  indefinite  prolongation,  have  received  the 
names  "  definite"  and  "  indefinite"  mutable  elements. 

1.  The  immutable  elements  of  our  language  are  the  ab- 
rupts  (see  Table  No.  7),  p,  t,  k,  b,  d,  g,  which  can  not  be 
prolonged. 

2.  The  mutable  elements  are  most  strongly  represented  in 
the  long  vowel  sounds,  because  they  are  capable  of  agreea- 
ble prolongation — (see  Table  No.  6) — e,  a,  'a,  a,  6,  o,  T,  u.     , 

3.  The  definite  Mutable  elements  are  the  short  vowels  (see  , 
Table  No.  6),  i,  e,  a,  o,  u,  u,  and  continuants  (Table  No.  7),  \ 
r,  1,  m,  n,  ng,  w,  y,  h,  wh,  because,  though  capable  of  slight 
prolongation,  it  is  seldom  in  good  taste  or  agreeable  to  the 
ear  to  add  to  their  usual  length. 

Examples. 

(Immutable.)  "Would  you  make  men  trustworthy?  Trust 
them.  Would  you  ma^e  them  true?  Relieve  them.  We 
win  by  tenderness;  we  conquer  by  forgiveness."  —  Rob- 
ertson. 


166  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

{Mutable.) 

"  Hail,  holy  Light !     Offspring  of  heaven  first-born, 
Or  of  the  eternal  co-eternal  beam, 
May  I  express  thee  unblamed  ?     Since  God  is  light, 
And  never  but  in  unapproached  light 
Dwelt  from  eternity,  dwelt  then  in  thee, 
Bright  effulgence  of  bright  essence  increate." — Miltow. 

{Definite  Mutable.) 

"  Up !  comrades,  up !  in  Rokeby's  halls 
Ne'er  be  it  said  our  courage  falls !" — Scott. 

Bests  or  Pauses.  ^U 

A  pause  is  a  suspension.  In  spoken  or  written  language, 
pauses  are  signs  of  the  divisions  of  discourse,  and  may  be 
classed  as  vocal  or  oratorical,  and  as  grammatical. 

A  vocal  or  oratorical  pause  is  a  suspension  of  voice  for 
the  purpose  of  obtaining  breath,  or  to  convey  to  the  audi- 
tors the  emotion  or  meaning  of  the  speaker.  They  may,  but 
often  do  not,  coincide  with  grammatical  pauses.  Those  vo- 
cal pauses  that  make  plain  the  meaning  of  the  author  or 
speaker  are  called  sentential ;  those  that  express  his  feelings 
are  called  emotional ;  and  those  necessary  to  metrical  com- 
position or  verse  are  called  rhythmical  pauses. 

Rules  for  the  Use  of  Sentential  and  Emotional  Pauses. 
A  sentential  or  emotional  pause  should  be  made — 

1.  Before  infinitive  phrases. 

2.  "  prepositional  phrases. 

3.  "  relative  pronouns. 

4.  "  adjectives  following  their  nouns. 

5.  "  the  conclusion  or  closing  half  of  a  sentence. 

6.  "  an  ellipsis,  or  in  place  of  the  omitted  word. 

7.  "  a  word  or  phrase  of  concentrated  emphasis. 

Examples. 

1.  {Infinitive  Phrase.)  It  is  noble  |  to  say  little  and  per- 
form much. 

2.  {Prepositional  Phrase.)  Never  measure  other  people's 
corn  |  by  your  own  bushel. 

3.  {Relative  Pronoun?)  He  laughs  best  |  who  laughs  last. 


TIME.  167 

1     4.  (Adjective.)  Dim  miniature  of  greatness  |  absolute  ! 

5.  (Conclusion.)  The  man  who  spares  vice  |  wrongs  virtue. 

6.  (Ellipsis.)  I  fondly  dream  had  I  been  thou — but  what 
could  that  have  done  ? 

7.  (Emphasis)  The  Union  |  must  be  preserved. 

A  sentential  or  emotional  pause  should  be  made — 
1.  After  the  nominative  or  subject  phrase. 


2. 
3. 
4. 
5. 
6. 
7. 
8. 
9. 


ths  objective  phrase  in  inverted  sentences. 

each  member  of  a  series. 

and  between  words  in  apposition. 

and  before  a  word  or  phrase  in  parenthesis. 

and  before  a  quotation. 

the  completion  of  sense. 

emphatic  words  or  subjects. 

each  member  of  a  sentence. 


Examples. 

1.  (Nominative  Phrase)  "All  high  poetry  |  is  infinite." — • 
Shelley. 

2.  (Objective  Phrase.)  " A  word  once  spoken  |  a  coach  .and 
six  horses  can  not  bring  it  back." — Confucius. 

3.  (Members  of  a  Series.)  "  Here  is  your  unadulterated  ale 
of  Father  Adam ;  better  than  Cognac,  \  Hollands,  \  Jamai- 
ca, |  strong  beer,  |  or  wine  of  any  price ;  here  it  is  by  the 
hogshead  or  the  single  glass,  and  not  a  cent  to  pay." — Haw- 
thorne. 

4.  (Apposition.)  John  Chrysostom  Wolfgang  Gottlieb  Mo- 
zart',  |  the  great  German  composer',  was  born  in  Salzburg, 
January  27,1756. 

5.  (Parenthesis.)  God  is  thanked  |  (perhaps  unconscious- 
ly) |  for  the  brightness  of  earth  on  summer  evenings,  when 
a  brother  and  sister,  who  have  long  been  parted,  pour  out 
their  heart -stores  to  each  other,  and  feel  their  course  of 
thoughts  brightening  as  it  runs. 

6.  (Quotation)  Longfellow  says:  |  "Silently,  one  by  one, 
in  the  infinite  meadows  of  heaven,  blossom  the  lovely  stars, 
the  forget-me-nots  of  the  angels  /"  |  and  who  can  forget  it? 


168  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

•     I 

7.  {Complete  Sense.) 

"  Count  that  day  lost  whose  low-descending  sun 
Views  from  thy  hand  no  worthy  action  done."  | 

8.  {Emphasis,) 

"Strike  \  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires! 
Strike  |  for  your  altars  and  your  fires ! 
Strike  |  for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires ! 
God  and  your  native  land !" — Halleck.  ' 

RHYTHMICAL   PAUSES.  -— -"AV 

Rhythm  is  regularly  recurring  accent  in  motion  or  sound,  \ 
as  in  music,  poetry,  dancing,  fencing,  calisthenics,  marching, 
and  the  like.* 

Rhythmical  pauses  are  those  cessations  of  sound  necessary 
to  metrical  composition. 

They  are  termed  final^  ccesural,  and  demi-ccesural  Final 
pauses  occur  at  the  close  of  lines  of  poetry,  the  csesural  in 
the  middle  of  the  lines,  and  the  demi-caesural  subdivide  the 
csesural  divisions. 

The  final  Rhythmical  Pause  : 
"  How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood,] 
When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view !  | 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep-tangled  wildwood,  | 
And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew!"| 

"Wordsworth. 
The  C aesural  Pause : 
"  When  the  humid  shadows  gather  |  over  all  the  starry  spheres, 
And  the  melancholy  darkness  |  gently  weeps  in  rainy  tears,     ' 
'Tis  a  joy  to  press  the  pillow  |  of  a  cottage-chamber  bed, 
And  listen  to  the  patter  |  of  the  soft  rain  overhead." 

Coates  Kinney. 
The  Demi-ccesural  Pause : 
"  There's  a  land  |  far  away,  'mid  the  stars,  I  we  are  told, 
Where  they  know  not  the  sorrows  of  time — 
Where  the  pure  |  waters  wander  through  val|leys  of  gold, 

And  life  is  a  treasure  sublime." — J.  G.  Clark. 
The  Final,  C&sural,  and  Demi-ccesural  Pause : 
"  Knowledge  comes,  |  but  wisdom  lingers,  |  and  he  bears  |  a  laden  breast,  | 
Full  of  sad  experience  moving  I  toward  the  stillness  I  of  his  rest."  | 

' Tennyson. 

*  Notice  the  distinction  between  rhythm  and  metre.  Metre  is  applied  to 
words  only,  while  rhythm  is  applied  to  motion  and  to  sound,  which  includes 
words. 


TIME.  169 

Rule  for  the  final  Rhythmical  Pause. 
If  the  final  pause  be  necessary  to  the  sense,  it  may  be  a 
breathing  pause ;  if  not,  it  should  be  a  suspension  of  voice 
without  taking  breath.* 

Final  Breathing  Pause : 

"  Launch  thy  bark,  mariner ! 
Christian,  God  speed  thee ;  | 
Let  loose  the  rudder-bands, 

Good  angels  lead  thee !  | 
Set  thy  sails  warily ; 

Tempests  may  come. 
Steer  thy  course  steadily ; 

Christian,  steer  home/')—  Mrs  Southet, 

Final  Pause  of  Suspension : 

*'  Yet  not  to  thine  eternal  resting-place  | 
Shalt  thou  retire  alone,  nor  couldst  thou  wish  | 
Couch  more  magnificent.     Thou  shalt  lie  down  | 
With  patriarchs  of  the  infant  world,  with  kings, 
The  powerful  of  the  earth — the  wise,  the  good — 
Fair  forms,  and  hoary  seers  of  ages  past,  | 
All  in  one  mighty  sepulchre." — W.  C.Bryant. 

GRAMMATICAL  PAUSES,  OR  PUNCTUATION   MARKS. 

Grammatical  pauses,  or  marks  of  punctuation,  are  visible! 
signs  made  in  written  or  printed  composition  to  indicaiaj 
more  plainly  the  meaning  of  the  author's  words. 

The  principal  signs  are  the 

(,)  Comma. 

(;)  Semicolon. 

(:)  Colon. 

( . )  Period,  denoting  a  full  stop,  and  abbreviations ;  as, 
H.  for  Henry,  Mr.  for  Mister. 

(?)  Interrogation  Point,  showing  that  a  question  is 
asked. 

*  In  reading  poetry  there  are  two  common  errors.  First,  that  of  running 
one  line  into  another  without  pause ;  the  second,  that  of  taking  breath  at 
the  end  of  each  line.  The  true  artist  heeds  neither  the  presence  nor  ab- 
sence of  grammatical  pauses  or  punctuation,  particularly  in  reading  blank 
verse.  The  voice  should  poise,  as  it  were,  upon  the  last  word  of  the  line, 
but,  unless  the  sense  requires  it,  not  long  enough  to  take  breath. 

H 


170  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

(!)  Exclamation  Point,  which  follows  expressions  of 
strong  emotion. 

The  remaining  signs  in  common  use  include  the 

( - )  Hyphen,  used  to  connect  compound  words  and  to 
separate  the  syllables  of  a  word ;  as,  wild  -  wood,  con- 
stancy. 

( — )  Dash,  denoting  a  sudden  pause,  or  change  of  sub- 
ject, and  sometimes  for  a  parenthesis. 

( )  ( *  *  * )  Ellipsis,  showing  the  omission  of  letters 

in  a  word,  or  words  in  a  sentence ;  as,  M y  for  Mary, 

[  go  to  *  *  *  to-morrow. 

[  ( )  ]  Parenthesis,  inclosing  an  exj)lanatof  y  phrase  01 
sentence. 

( [  ] )  Brackets,  or  crotchets. 

("")  Quotation  Marks,  showing  that  the  exact  words 
of  another  are  used. 

(')  Apostrophe,  denoting  the  possessive  case,  or  that 
one  or  more  letters  in  a  word  have  been  omitted ;  as,  'pon, 
sigh'd,  man's  life. 

(A)  Caret,  showing  that  by  mistake  one  or  more  letters 

n  is 

have  been  omitted ;  as,  boded,  God  love. 

A  A 

( } )  Brace,  used  to  connect  several  words  with  a  com- 
mon term. 

( " )  Diaeresis,  placed  over  the  latter  of  two  vowels  to" 
indicate  a  division  of  syllables  between  them ;  as,  aerial 
(a-e-rial). 

(  mSif )  Index,  referring  to  an  important  statement. 

( % )  Paragraph,  indicating  the  commencement  of  a  new 
subject. 

(§)  Section,  used  to  divide  a  chapter  or  a  book  into 
parts. 

( * )  Asterisk, 


(f)  Obelisk,  or  Dagger, 
( j )  Double  Dagger, 
( § )  Section, 
( || )  Parallels, 
(•jf)  Paragraph, 
Letters  and  figures, 


refer  to  notes  in  the  margin, 
or  at  the  bottom  of  the 
page. 


TIME.  171 


MOVEMENT. 

Movement,  in  this  connection,  means  the  motion  or  pro- 
gression in  time,  and  includes  rate  and  rhythm.     The  rate 
or  speed  of  movement  is  classed  as  quick,  moderate,  and 
slow. 

Quick  or  rapid  movement  is  used  to  express  haste,  alarm, 
confusion,  terror,  joy,  mirth,  humor,  and  animation ;  as, 
"Away!  away!  our  fires  stream  bright 
Along  the  frozen  river, 
And  their  arrowy  sparkles  of  brilliant  light 
On  the  forest  branches  quiver." — Bryant. 

Moderate  movement  is  the  speed  used  in  simple  narra- 
tion, description,  or  didactic  thought ;  as, 
"  Oh,  Maggie  Bell,  sweet  Maggie  Bell, 
Twere  better  for  me  had  thy  funeral  knell 
Been  tolled  ere  we  parted,  upon  the  old  bell ; 
'Twere  better  for  me,  and  better  for  thee, 
Had  I  been  content  with  a  simple  lot, 
With  honest  toil  and  a  humble  cot ; 
Had  I  but  made  thee  my  honor  and  fame, 
My  world  and  my  fortune,  ambition  and  aim, 
Thy  love  would  have  been  all  these  to  me." 

Slow  movement  expresses  emotions  of  sublimity,  grief, 
pathos,  melancholy,  reverence,  deep  repose,  grandeur,  maj- 
esty, vastness,  power,  splendor,  adoration,  and  horror ;  as, 
"  When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 

The  line  too  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow." — Pope. 
•  He  is  gone  on  the  mountain,  he  is  lost  to  the  forest, 
Like  some  summer-dried  fountain  when  our  need  was  the  sorest ; 
The  fount  reappearing  from  the  rain-drops  shall  borrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering,  to  Duncan  no  morrow. 
The  hand  of  the  reaper  takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 
But  the  voice  of  the  weeper  wails  manhood  in  glory ; 
The  autumn  winds  rushing  waft  the  leaves  that  are  serest, 
But  our  flower  was  in  flushing  when  blighting  was  nearest. 
Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain,  like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain,  thou  art  gone  and  forever." 

Scott. 


SELECTIONS 
FOR  THE  LITTLE  FOLKS. 


The  simplest  matter  is  often  hardest  to  read.  Let  the 
best  reader  try  his  skill  upon  lessons  prepared  for  chil- 
dren, or  any  simple  narration,  and  he  will  discover  the 
difficulties  which  the  young  reader  encounters.  First,  the 
words  must  mean  something ;  and  if  a  long  word  occurs 
now  and  then,  do  not  wait  for  the  child  to  study  it  out 
until  he  has  forgotten  the  story,  but  help  him  by  speaking 
the  word,  or  even  the  entire  phrase,  if  necessary.  He  will 
then  keep  the  meaning  in  mind,  and  become  interested  in 
learning.  It  is  no  wonder  a  child  reads  stupidly  such  un- 
satisfactory and  unmeaning  phrases  as  "  I  go  up,"  "  You 
go  down,"  when  what  he  goes  \xpfor,  or  how,  or  when,  or 
where,  is  wholly  unknown. 

In  order  to  obtain  a  variety  of  new  selections  suited  to 
a  natural  style  of  reading,  special  permission  has  been  ob- 
tained to  copy  from  three  monthly  magazines,  viz.,  "  The 
Nursery"  and  "  Our  Young  Folks,"  published  in  Boston, 
and  "  The  Little  Corporal,"  published  in  Chicago.  Many 
of  the  selections  found  in  this  volume  can  not  be  copied 
without  permission  from  the  owners  of  the  copyrights. 

The  selections  for  "  little  folks"  are  simple  enough  for 
any  child  that  can  recognize  common  monosyllables  at 
sight.  Hard  words,  particularly  proper  names,  will  soon, 
be  learned  as  sight-words. 

Those  who  expect  to  instruct  children  will  do  well  to 
practice  these  selections. 


174  MANUAL   OF   READING. 


JOHNNY'S  FIRST  SNOW-STORM.—  From  the  Nursery. 

Johnny  Reed  was  a  lit/tie  boy  who  nev'er  saw  a  snow'- 
storm  till  he  was  six  years  old.  Before  this,  he  had  lived  in 
a  warm  coun'try,  where  the  sun  shines  down  on  beau'tiful 
or'ange-groves,  and  fields  al'ways  sweet  wTith  flow'ers.  In 
the  win'ter,  there,  rain  falls  in'stead  of  snow. 

But  now  he  had  come  to  vis'it  his  grand-moth'er,  who 
lived  where  the  snow  falls  in  win'ter.  And  Johnny  was 
standing  at  the  win'dow  when  the  snow  came  down. 

"  Oh  mamma !"  he  cried,  joy 'fully,  "  do  come  quick,  and 
see  all  these  lit'tle  white  birds  fly'ing  down  from  heaven !" 

"  They  are  not  birds,  Johnny,"  said  mamma,  smiling. 

"  Then  maybe  the  lit'tle  an'gels  are  dan'cing,  and  los'ing 
their  feath'ers !  Oh !  do  tell  me  what  it  is :  is  it  sug'ar  ? 
Let  me  taste  it,"  said  Johnny. 

But,  when  he  tasted  it,  he  gave  a  lit'tle  jump,  it  was  so 
cold. 

"  It  is  snow,  Johnny,"  said  his  moth'er. 

"  And  what  is  snow,  moth'er  ?" 

"  The  snow-flakes,  Johnny,  are  little  drops  of  wa'ter  that 
fall  from  the  clouds.  But  the  air  through  which  they  pass 
is  so  cold,  it  freez'es  them,  and  they  come  down  turned  to 
snow.  In  the  sum'mer,  here,  it  is  too  warm  for  snow,  but 
the  win'ter  is  very  cold." 

As  she  said  this,  she  brought  out  an  old  black  hat  from 
the  clos'et. 

"  See,  Johnny,  I  have  caught  a  snow-flake  on  this  hat. 
Look  quick  through  this  glass,  and  you  will  see  how  beau'- 
tiful it  is." 

Johnny  looked  through  the  glass.  There  lay  the  snow- 
flake  like  a  love'ly  lit'tle  star. 

"  T win'kle,  twin'kle,  little  star,"  he  cried,  in  delight.  "  Oh ! 
please  show  me  more." 

So  his  mamma  caught  sev'eral  more.  They  were  all  beau'- 
tiful, yet  no  one  was  shaped  like  anoth'er. 

The  next  day  Johnny  had  a  fine  play  in  the  snow,  and, 
when  he  came  in,  he  said,  "  I  love  snow ;  and  I  think  snow- 
balls are  a  great  deal  pret'tier  than  or'anges." 


SELECTIONS    FOR  THE    LITTLE   FOLKS.  1 75 

THE  SNOW  MAN.—  From  the  Little  Corporal 
In  the  blinding,  whirling  snow, 
Jolly  snow-birds  now  are  we  ! 
Roll  his  body  while  we  go ; 
Plant  him  up  against  a  tree  ! 

Fix  him  up  a  pair  of  hands ; 

Then  a  pair  of  funny  legs ; 
Count  how  many  feet  he  stands— 

Ain't  he  shaky  on  his  pegs ! 

Nimble  fingers,  how  they  fly  ! 

Laughing  cheeks  are  cherry  red ! 
Punch  him  here  and  there  an  eye — 

What  a  precious  pumpkin  head ! 

Ringing  shouts  are  in  the  air — 

Now  he's  done,  except  the  nose  ! 
Pop  him  here  and  pop  him  there — 

One,  two,  three,  and  down  he  goes ! 


JINGLE,  JINGLE  I— From  the  Nursery. 
Jingle,  jingle  !  up  and  down, 
Sleighs  are  flying  through  the  town 
Jingle,  jingle  !  don't  you  hear 
Merry  sleigh-bells  far  and  near  ? 

Get  a  sleigh  that's  large  and  wide ; 
Let  the  children  have  a  ride — 
Henry,  Ellen,  Tom,  and  Ann, 
George  and  Jane,  and  little  Fan. 

Yes,  there's  room  enough  for  all: 
Bring  another  blanket-shawl ; 
Tuck  them  in.     Away  we  go, 
Jingle,  jingle  !  through  the  snow. 

Jingle,  jingle  !  now  we  meet 
Faces  gay  and  horses  fleet ; 
And  we  laugh,  and  shout,  and  sinir, 
While  the  merry  sleigh-bells  ring. 


176  MANUAL   OF   HEADING. 

LEARNING  TO  FLY.— From  the  Nursery. 

When  the  little  chicks  were  three  weeks  old,  their  mother 
thought  they  were  strong  enough  to  learn  to  fly.  So  she 
flew  up  on  a  bush.  Then  she  looked,  and  called  for  the  lit- 
tle ones  to  come.  One  bold  little  chick  flew  up  a  short  way, 
and  then  fell  to  the  ground. 

The  sun  was  going  down,  and  it  was  time  for  all  little 
chicks  to  go  to  bed.  Their  mother  flew  up  on  the  roost  and 
waited  for  them. 

Then  the  little  chicks  all  began  to  cry,  and  kept  looking 
up  to  their  mother,  as  if  to  say, "  We  can  not  fly  up  so  high. 
Oh  dear !  what  shall  we  do  ?    Do  help  us  up." 

But  their  mother  kept  cheering  them  by  little  soft  sounds, 
which  meant  "  Come  up,  my  darlings  !  Come  up,  my  dear 
little  chicks  !    It  is  not  so  hard  as  you  think  it  is.    Just  try." 

By-and-by  they  had  all  flown  up  to  the  roost — all  but  one 
poor  little  chick.  This  one  was  smaller  than  the  rest,  and 
its  wings  were  not  so  much  grown.  So  it  just  ran  off  alone 
in  the  corner,  and  seemed  very  sad.  Then  Lucy  took  it  in 
her  hands,  and  put  it  up  on  the  roost. 

One  little  chick  flew  up  on  its  mother's  back.  Then  they 
all  shut  up  their  eyes  and  went  to  sleep. 


MIND  YOUR  STEPS.—  From  the  Nursery. 

George  caught  sight  of  a  big  brown  but'terfly.  "I  will 
have  that  fellow !"  said  George.  So  off  he  dashed  after  the 
but'terfly,  hat  in  hand.  Down  in  the  hollow,  up  on  the  hill, 
over  the  lawn — away  he  went  at  full  speed.  "Now  I've 
got  him !"  said  George,  making  a  swoop  with  his  hat. 

Well,  George  did  not  get  the  but'terfly,  but  he  got  a  fall. 
I  wonder  if  the  but'terfly  laughed  to  see  him  sprawling  on 
the  ground  ? 

If  but'terflies  can  laugh,  I  think  this  one  did,  for  he  look 
ed  on  very  sau'cily  while  George  was  picking  him'self  up> 
and  then  whisked  away  over  the  fields,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Would  you  like  to  try  anoth'er  race  with  me,  my  young 
friend  ?     Good-by  !     I  must  leave  you." 


SELECTIONS    FOB   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  177 


HANG  UP  THE  BABY'S  STOCKING. 
Hang  up  the  baby's  stocking ; 

Be  sure  that  you  don't  forget 
The  dear  little  dimpled  darling — 

He  never  saw  Christmas  yet. 
But  I  have  told  him  all  about  it, 
~~  And  he  opened  his  big  black  eyes, 
And  I  am  sure  he  understood  me, 

He  looked  so  funny  and  wise. 

Dear,  dear,  what  a  tiny  stocking  ! 

It  doesn't  take  much  to  hold 
Such  little  pink  toes  as  baby's 

Away  from  the  frost  and  cold. 
But  then,  for  the  baby's  Christmas, 

It  never  will  do  at  all : 
Why,  Santa  Claus  won't  be  looking 

For  any  thing  half  so  small. 

I  know  what  we'll  do  for  the  baby — 

I  have  thought  of  the  very  best  plan — 
We  will  borrow  a  stocking  of  grandma, 

The  longest  that  ever  we  can, 
And  you  will  hang  it  by  mine,  dear  mother, 

Right  here  in  the  corner — so — 
And  write  a  letter  to  Santa, 

And  fasten  it  on  the  toe. 

Write,  u  This  is  the  baby's  stocking, 

That  hangs  in  the  corner  here ; 
You  never  have  seen  him,  Santa, 

For  he  only  came  this  year ; 
But  he  is  just  the  blessedest  baby  ! 

And  now,  before  you  go, 
Just  cram  his  stocking  with  goodies 

From  the  top  clear  down  to  the  toe." 
H2 


178  MANUAL    OF   READING. 


FRETTING  JENNIE. 

Little  Jennie,  fretful, 

Sitting  in  a  tree, 
Worried  at  the  buzzing 

Of  a  humble-bee. 

Said  she  had  a  headache, 
Wished  it  would  be  still ; 

Knew  it  buzzed  on  purpose 
To  defy  her  will. 

Buzzing  bee  was  happy, 

Busy  at  its  work, 
Gathering  stores  of  honey — 

Never  thought  to  shirk ; 

Never  thought  of  Jennie, 

Fretting  in  the  tree, 
It  was  such  a  happy, 

Busy  little  bee. 

Jennie  grew  more  fretful 
When  it  answered  not, 

Said  'twas  really  hateful — 
That  was  what  she  thought, 

Still  the  bee  kept  buzzing, 
Glad  its  sphere  to  fill ; 

Discontented  Jennie 
May  be  fretting  still. 

Are  there  not  some  Jennies, 
Boys  and  girls,  you  know, 

Who  to  fret  at  others 
Are  not  slack  or  slow  ? 

Forth  to  duty,  children ! 

Like  the  busy  bee, 
Minding  not  cross  Jennie, 

On  her  fretting  tree. 


SELECTIONS    FOR  THE    LITTLE   FOLKS.  179 

OLD  HERO.—  From  the  Nursery. 

Ann  and  her  little  sister  Mary  went  out  to  the  pasture 
one  bright  summer  day  to  see  the  old  horse.  The  horse 
stood  in  the  shade  of  the  great  elm-tree,  and,  as  the  two 
girls  came  up,  he  put  his  head  over  the  fence,  as  though  he 
was  glad  to  see  them. 

"  Let  me  feed  him,"  said  Mary ;  and  she  plucked  a  bunch 
of  clover  to  give  to  the  horse. 

But  when  she  held  it  to  his  mouth,  he  reached  out  for  it 
with  his  upper  lip,  and  gave  a  slight  snort  that  startled  the 
little  girl.     She  drew  back  timidly. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  said  Ann.  "  He  will  not  hurt  you. 
Good  old  horse  !  See  me  pat  him  on  the  head."  Then  little 
Mary  took  courage,  and  let  the  old  horse  eat  the  clover  from 
her  hand. 

Now  I  must  tell  you  something  about  this  old  horse. 
Mary's  father,  who  was  a  doctor,  bought  him  when  he  was 
a  colt,  and  named  him  Hero.  For  many  and  many  a  year 
he  carried  the  doctor  on  his  rounds,  and  served  the  whole 
family  faithfully. 

He  was  older  than  the  oldest  of  the  doctor's  children,  and 
was  such  a  gentle,  steady,  useful  creature  that  they  all  be- 
came much  attached  to  him. 

By-and-by  Hero  grew  so  old  that  he  was  not  able  to  do 
his  usual  work.  One  day  a  man  said  to  the  doctor,  "  That 
horse  is  of  no  use  to  you  now.  Sell  him  to  me.  I  will  give 
you  twelve  dollars  for  him.  I  want  him  to  work  in  my 
tread-mill." 

Wasn't  there  an  outcry  in  the  house  when  the  folks  heard 
this  !  The  idea  of  selling  old  Hero  to  be  worked  in  a  tread- 
mill !  That  was  too  bad.  But  the  doctor's  answer  to  the 
man  settled  the  matter  very  soon. 

"  My  friend,"  said  he, "  there  is  not  money  enough  in  your 
town  to  buy  this  horse  for  a  tread-mill." 

Soon  after  this  old  Hero  got  so  lame  that  he  was  not  fit 
to  work  at  all.  Then  somebody  said,  "That  horse  is  good 
for  nothing.     I  would  kill  him  if  I  were  you." 

There  was  another  outburst  in  the  family  when  the  doc- 


180  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

tor  told  this.  "  Papa,"  said  Mary,  with  her  lip  quivering, 
"  if  you  let  old  Hero  be  killed,  you  will  be  a  cruel  man." 

"That's  just  what  I  think,"  said  the  doctor.  "No,  old 
fellow,"  said  he,  patting  Hero,  "  you  shall  not  be  killed. 
You  shall  have  no  more  work  to  do.  You  shall  take  your 
ease.  You  shall  have  the  best  stall  in  the  stable,  and  we 
will  take  care  of  you  as  long  as  you  live." 

So,  after  that,  Hero  was  one  of  the  family  pets. 

In  the  summer  his  shoes  were  taken  off,  and  he  was  put  in 
the  richest  pasture  to  roam  at  will. 

He  lived  upon  the  fat  of  the  land,  and  grew  so  strong  and 
hearty,  that,  when  I  last  saw  him,  the  old, broken-down  horse 
was  frisking  about  like  a  young  colt. 

I  wish  that  all  horses  could  have  such  a  happy  old  age. 


THE  FIRST  SNOW.— From  the  Nursery. 
Drop,  pretty  snow-flakes,  one  by  one ; 
Don't  be  afraid  of  the  noon-day  sun. 
Build  up  your  palaces  crystal  white, 
Aladdin-like,  in  a  single  night. 

Hide  the  old  fences  under  your  veil ; 
Cover  the  dimples  of  hill  and  of  dale ; 
Don't  let  the  trees  go  naked,  but  place 
On  their  shivering  limbs  a  web  of  your  lace. 

Visit  the  martin-house  if  you  will, 
Or  lodge  all  night  on  my  window-sill ; 
Call  on  the  well-sweep,  and  wreathe  it  about 
With  fringes,  as  well  as  the  water-spout. 

Give  to  the  door-bell  a  fleecy  cap ; 
Lend  the  salt  h^y-cocks  an  ermine  wrap ; 
And  drift  just  enough  to  make  the  world  look 
As  if  it  had  stepped  from  a  fairy  brook. 


THE  MOTHER-BIRD.—  From  the  Nursery. 
"Peep,  peep,  peep  !"  says  she; 
"  One,  two,  three,  one,  two,  three 
Little  birds  who  wait  for  me  ! 


SELECTIONS    FOR   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  181 

M  One  is  yellow,  two  are  brown, 

And  their  throats  are  soft  with  down ; 

On  each  head  a  scarlet  crown. 

u  Mother-bird  is  flying  fast ; 
Soon  your  hunger  will  be  past : 
Here  is  mother,  come  at  last. 

"  Peep,  peep,  peep !"  says  she : 
"  And  can  it  be  ? — ah  !  can  it  be  ? 
No  little  ones  are  here  for  me." 

In  vain  her  cry,  in  vain  her  quest. 

A  thoughtless  boy  has  robbed  her  nest ; 

She  looks  around  with  aching  breast. 

In  reviewing  a  piece  of  this  kind,  there  is  an  opportunity  for  the  teacher 
to  impress  the  mind  of  the  pupil  with  a  desire  to  protect  and  care  for  ani- 
mals, and  to  abhor  cruelty. 


WHAT  THE  FLOWERS  WISHED.— From  the  Nursery. 

A  FABLE. 

On  the  edge  of  a  stream  grew  a  Lily,  a  Hose,  a  Daisy,  and 
a  Violet. 

"  I  would  like,"  said  the  Lily, "  to  bloom  in  the  pal'-ace  of 
the  king ;  to  be  seen  by  the  lords  and  ladies  in  their  fine 
dress'-es  of  vel'-vet,  silk,  and  gold." 

"  As  for  me,"  said  the  Rose, "  I  would  like  to  be  taken  by 
some  learn'ed  flor'-ist,  who  would  look  at  me  through  his 
eye-glass,  and  then  have  me  dried,  and  placed  where  I  would 
be  seen  and  known  to  fame." 

"  I  do  not  care  for  kings  and  learn'ed  men,"  said  the  Daisy. 
"  What  I  would  like  would  be  to  be  put  among  the  flowers 
of  a  wreath  for  the  gold  en  locks  of  some  fair  young  girl." 

And  what  said  the  Violet  when  it  was  her  turn  to  speak? 
She  said, "  Let  the  good  God  do  with  me  as  he  will !" 

The  son  of  the  king  gathered  the  Lily. 

An  old  flor'-ist  plucked  the  Rose. 

A  young  girl  with  gold'en  locks  took  the  Daisy. 

Then  along  the  bor'der  of  the  stream  came  a  poor  child, 
fchin,  sickly,  and  burnt  by  the  sun.     Her  feet  were  bare,  and 


182  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

her  dress  was  patched  and  rag'-ged.  She  gath'-ered  the 
Vio'let. 

On  the  even'-ing  of  that  day  the  Lily  was  put  on  a  table 
in  the  palace  of  the  king.  Great  lords  and  ladies  praised 
the  Lily's  beauty,  and  the  queen  stooped  to  breathe  its 
per'-fume. 

The  Rose  was  put  by  the  flor'-ist  between  two  leaves  of 
gray  paper;  and  then  some  heav'-y  books,  which  crushed  it 
by  their  weight,  were  put  on  it ;  and  thus  it  had  the  fame  it 
had  longed  for. 

The  Daisy  shone  like  a  star  on  the  brow  of  the  young  girl 
with  golden  locks  as  she  led  the  dance  in  a  light'-ed  hall. 

Mean'-while,  on  some  straw  in  a  barn,  where  she  had  been 
told  to  lie  down,  the  poor  child  who  had  plucked  the  Violet 
pressed  it  to  her  lips,  and  said  in  her  heart, "  How  good  is 
God  to  scatter  his  flowers  on  the  earth,  where  we  all  can 
pluck  them." 

And  if  they  had  told  the  Violet  that  she  might  change 
her  lot  for  that  of  the  Daisy,  the  Rose,  or  the  Lily,  the  Vio- 
let would  have  said, "  I  prefer  to  stay  where  I  am." 


WHO  KILLED  TOM  ROPER  ?—From  the  Temperance  Speaker. 
Who  killed  Tom  Roper? 
"Not  I,"  said  New  Cider: 
"  I  couldn't  kill  a  spider — 
I  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 

"Not  I,"  said  Strong  Ale  j 
"  I  make  men  tough  and  hale — 
I  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 

"  Not  I,"  said  Lager  Bier : 
"  I  don't  intoxicate.     D'ye  hear  ? 
I  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 

u  Not  I,"  said  Bourbon  Whisky : 
"  I  make  sick  folks  spry  and  frisky ; 
The  doctors  say  so — don't  they  know 
What  quickens  blood  that  runs  so  slow  ? 
I  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 


SELECTIONS    FOK  THE    LITTLE   FOLKS.  183 

"  Not  I,"  said  sparkling  old  Champagne : 
"  No  poor  man  e'er  by  me  was  slain ; 
I  cheer  the  rich  in  lordly  halls, 
And  scorn  the  place  where  the  drunkard  falls — 
I  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 

"  Not  we,"  said  various  other  wines : 
"What!  juice  of  grapes,  product  of  vines 
Kill  a  man  !     The  Bible  tells 
That  wine  all  other  drink  excels — 
We  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 

"  Not  I,"  said  Holland  Gin : 
"To  charge  such  a  crime  to  me  is  sin — 
I  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 

u  Not  I,"  spoke  up  the  Brandy  strong : 
"  He  grew  too  poor  to  buy  me  long — 
I  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 

"  Not  I,"  said  Medford  Rum : 
"  He  was  almost  gone  before  I  come — 
I  didn't  kill  Tom  Roper." 

"  Ha !  ha  !"  laughed  old  Prince  Alcohol : 
"  Each  struck  the  blow  that  made  him  fall ; 
And  all  that  helped  to  make  him  toper, 
My  agents  were  to  kill  Tom  Roper." 


PLAYING  SCHOOL.  —From  the  Nursery. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  tired  of  run'ning  about !"  said  Ruth  May  to 
her  little  cousins,  who  had  come  to  spend  a  day  with  her. 
"  Suppose  we  find  a  shady  place  and  play  school  ?" 
'  "  Oh  yes !"  they  all  cried.     "  That  will  be  nice  fun." 

"  And,  Ruthie,"  said  George,  "  you  must  be  the  teacher, 
because  you  are  the  oldest." 

"  Well,  so  I  will,"  said  Ruth.  "  But,  when  I  am  teacher, 
you  must  not  call  me  Ruthie ;  you  must  all  say  Miss  May 
very  politely." 

"  Oh  yes !  we  had  better  begin  right  off,"  said  Dora,  a 
bright  little  girl  of  five  years.  "Miss  May,  will  you  please 
show  us  where  the  school-room  is  ?" 


184  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Ruth.  "  On  the  bench  under  the  old 
apple-tree  at  the  end  of  the  orchard :  that  will  be  just  the 
place.  I  will  run  in  for  some  books,  and  then  wTe  will  all  go 
there." 

So  here  they  are  under  the  tree ;  Miss  May  with  a  long 
rod,  "  to  keep  roguish  children  in  order3"  as  she  says. 

Bessie,  a  little  girl  of  three  years,  when  she  sees  this,  says, 
"You  wouldn't  really  hurt  us  with  it,  would  you,  Cousin 
Ruth?" 

"  Oh  no,  darling !"  replied  Ruth.  "  I  shall  only  tingle 
your  fingers  a  little  bit,  just  for  fun." 

I  think  she  will  have  to  try  it  on  George's  fingers  first,  for 
he  is  slyly  pulling  Dora's  hair  as  she  slips  down  from  the 
£eat,  and  holds  up  her  hand  to  know  if  she  may  speak. 

"  What  is  it,  Dora  ?"  says  the  teacher. 

"  Please,  Miss  May,  I  know  my  lesson,"  answers  Dora. 

"  Very  well,  dear.  Now  I  will  hear  you  spell.  George 
may  begin.     Spell  bird,  George." 

"  B-w-r-d,"  says  George.  "  Halloa !  there's  one  on  the 
end  of  that  branch.     Wouldn't  I  like  to  catch  him  !" 

"  For  shame,  sir !"  says  Ruth.  "  Go  to  the  foot  of  the 
class.   •  Now,  Dora,  let  me  hear  you  spell  it." 

"  B-i-r-d,  bird,"  Dora  says,  very  promptly. 

Then  Ruth  gives  little  Bessie  the  word  "  cat"  to  spell 
She  thinks  a  minute,  and  then  says, 

"  C-a-t,  pussy,"  which  makes  them  all  laugh. 

"  You  mean  cat,  darling,"  Ruth  says ;  "  but  that  is  very 
well  for  such  a  little  girl." 

Then  they  read  and  count,  and  so  go  on  playing,  till  by- 
and-by  a  voice  from  the  other  side  of  the  fence  says  sud- 
denly, 

"  Please,  ma'am,  may  I  come  to  school  too  ?    I'll  be  good." 

All  turn  to  see  whose  voice  it  is,  when  who  should  ap- 
,  pear  but  Ruth's  father,  who  is  coming  to  see  where  they  all 
are. 

" Oh,  Uncle  John!"  the  three  little  ones  call  out,  "how 
you  did  startle  us  !" 

"  And  how  funny  it  wTould  be  for  a  big  man  to  come  to 
6chool !"  says  little  Bessie,  with  a  merry  laugb. 


SELECTIONS    FOR   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  185 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  too  big,  Bess  ?"  Uncle  John  says. 
"  Well,  then,  come  here,  and  you  shall  ride  to  the  house 
on  my  shoulder,  for  I  hear  the  dinner-bell  ringing." 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it  was  so  late !"  says  Ruth. 
"  School  is  dismissed.  Pick  up  your  doll,  Dora ;  and,  George, 
bring  the  books.     Haven't  we  had  a  nice  time  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed!"  says  Dora;  "and  we've  really  learned 
something  too." 


LITTLE  BOY'S  POCKET;  OR  THE  YOUNG  PHILOSOPHER. 

From  Hearth  and  Home. 
Do  you  know  what's  in  my  pottet  ? 
Such  a  lot  of  treasure's  in  it ! 
Listen,  now,  while  I  bedin  it. 
Such  a  lot  of  sings  it  hold, 
And  all  there  is,  you  sail  be  told 
♦     Every  sin  dat's  in  my  pottet, 

And  when,  and  where,  and  how  I  dot  it. 

First  of  all,  here's  in  my  pottet 

A  beauty  shell :  I  picked  it  up ; 

And  here's  the  handle  of  a  tup 

That  somebody  has  broke  at  tea ; 

The  shell's  a  hole  in  it,  you  see ; 
Nobody  knows  that  I  have  dot  it — 
I  keep  it  safe  here  in  my  pottet. 

And  here's  my  ball,  too,  in  my  pottet, 
And  here's  my  pennies,  one,  two,  fre, 
That  Aunty  Mary  gave  to  me ; 
To-morrow-day  I'll  buy  a  spade, 
When  I'm  out  walking  with  the  maid; 

I  can't  put  dat  here  in  my  pottet, 

But  I  can  use  it  when  I've  dot  it. 

Here's  some  more  sins  in  my  pottet ! 

Here's  my  lead,  and  here's  my  string, 

And  once  I  had  an  iron  ring, 

But  through  a  hole  it  lost  one  day; 

And  this  is  what  I  always  say — 
A  hole's  the  worst  sin  in  a  pottet — 
Have  it  mended  when  you've  dot  it. 


186  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

AUNT  MARY'S  BULLFINCH.— .From  the  Nursery. 

Edith  has  been  to  see  her  aunt  Mary's  new  bird.  Aunt 
Mary  brought  it  from  Ger'many.     It  is  a  buli'finch. 

Aunt  Mary's  bird  is  what  they  call  a  "  piping  buli'finch ;" 
by  which  we  mean  that  it  has  been  taught  to  pipe  or  sing 
tunes. 

Aunt  Mary  took  Edith  on  her  knee,  and  told  her  about 
these  piping  bull'finches. 

"  There  are  men,"  said  Aunt  Mary,  "  who  spend  a  great 
deal  of  time  in  teaching  these  birds  to  sing  tunes,  and  then 
sell  them  for  a  high  price. 

"  It  must  be  fun'ny,  must  it  not  ?  to  see  a  school  of  bull'- 
finches learning  to  sing!  Shall  I  tell  you  how  they  are 
taught  ? 

"  First  of  all,  they  are  tak'en  when  they  are  quite  young, 
not  more  than  ten  days  old ;  and  they  have  great  care  giv'en 
to  them  till  they  are  about  two  months  old,  when  they  grow 
to  be  quite  tame. 

"  Soon  they  begin  to  whis'tle ;  and  then  their  mas'ter 
knows  it  is  time  to  begin  to  teach  them.  What  does  he  do 
then,  do  you  think ?  Does  he  fetch  out  primers  and  spell'- 
ing-books,  and  pen'cils  and  slates  ?  Oh  no  !  nothing  of  the 
kind. 

"  He  di-vides  his  lit'tle  school  into  class'es  of  about  six 
birds  in  each,  and  shuts  them  up  in  a  dark  room,  where  they 
are  left  for  some  time  with-out  any  food.  The  poor  lit'tle 
birds  won'der  what  it  all  means,  and  grow  quite  sad. 

"  Then  their  mas'ter  comes  in,  and  begins  playing  over 
and  over  one  tune  on  what  is  called  a  bird-or'gan ;  that  is,  a 
kind  of  ti'ny  or'gan,  the  notes  of  which  are  very  like  those 
of  a  buli'finch. 

"  Soon  the  lit'tle  birds  begin  to  lis'ten ;  and  after  the  same 
air  has  been  played  over  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell  you  how 
many  times,  some  of  the  birds  try  to  sing  the  air. 

"  As  soon  as  they  do  this,  some  food  is  given  to  them  as 
a  reward,  and  the  light  is  let  in ;  and  so,  at  last,  they  begin 
to  find  out  what  their  mas'ter  wants  them  to  do. 

"  The  same  thing  goes  on  day  after  day  for  a  long  time, 


SELECTIONS    FOE   THE    LITTLE   FOLKS.  187 

till  they  sing  quite  boldly,  and  then  the  classes  are  bro'ken 
up,  and  each  bird  is  put  under  the  care  of  a  boy,  who  plays 
that  one  tune  over  all  day  long,  so  that  the  buH'finch  may 
iearn  it  well. 

"  These  little  birds  remem'ber  their  teach'ers  a  long  time, 
and  often  seem  very  fond  of  them. 

"In  his  wild  state  the  buH'finch  is  quite  a  good  sing'er, 
and  it  is  fun'ny  to  watch  him  while  he  is  singing.  He  puffs 
out  his  feath'ers,  and  moves  about  his  head,  as  if  trying  to 
do  his  best ;  but,  when  he  sees  some  one  looking  at  him,  he 
will  fly  off." 

This  was  the  end  of  Aunt  Mary's  sto'ry ;  and  then  her  lit- 
tle buH'finch  sang  the  tune  of  ?  Sweet  Home."  Edith  was 
much  pleased,  and  went  home  and  told  her  moth'er  all  about 
the  piping  buH'finch. 


LITTLE  MARY'S  BOUQUET—  From  the  Little  Corporal 

"  To-morrow  is  little  Mary's  birth-day,"  said  the  garden- 
er, as  he  examined  his  flowers.  "  She  must  have  a  nice 
60  liquet." 

"To-morrow  is  little  Mary's  birth-day,"  whispered  the 
flowers -to  one  another.     "  To-morrow !  to-morrow !" 

"  My  buds  are  all  ready,"  said  the  rose. 

"  So  are  mine,"  said  the  sunflower. 

The  pansies  smiled  at  the  thought,  but  the  sunflower  held 
his  head  so  high  that  he  did  not  see  them. 

"  I'd  rather  stand  in  this  garden  than  be  put  in  the  queen's 
bouquet,"  said  a  tall  hollyhock. 

"  I've  no  flowers  to  spare  for  any  one,"  said  the  money- 
wort, anxiously  counting  her  buds. 

"  Don't  be  a  miser,"  said  the  ragged  robin.  "  They  may 
riave  all  of  mine." 

"  I  would  like  to  go  to  little  Mary,"  said  the  mignonette. 

"  My  dear  child,  don't  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said  a  gay 
tulip,  spreading  her  petals.     "  You  have  no  beauty." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  the  mignonette,  mournfully. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  rose ;  "  you  have  perfume,  and 
some  think  that  better  than  beauty." 


188  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

"Ah!"  said  the  tulip. 

"  Why  are  you  here,  pray  ?"  said  a  pert  little  lady's-slip- 
per  to  a  bright  dandelion,  as  she  gave  her  a  sly  kick. 

"  If  it  comes  to  that,  why  are  you  here  ?"  said  the  dande- 
lion. 

"Because  I  was  planted  here,"  said  the  lady's  -  slipper. 
"Yoic  are  wild,  but  I  came  in  a  paper  bag,  with  my  name  on 
it,  and  was  planted  by  the  gardener." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  a  little  wild,"  said  the  dandelion ;  "  but  I 
was  planted  here ;  and,  besides,  I  can  tell  the  time." 

"I  never  heard  of  a  dandelion's  being  planted,"  said  the 
lady's-slipper. 

"I  never  heard  of  a  dandelion  telling  time,"  said  a  four- 
o'clock. 

"  At  all  events,  I  was  blown  here  by  some  one  who  want- 
ed to  know  what  time  it  was." 

"  Did  they  find  out  ?"  interrupted  the  four-o'clock. 

"  And  I  thought,  as  I  was  here,  I  might  as  well  grow,"  con- 
tinued the  dandelion.  "I  am  good  to  eat,  and  I  can  be 
made  into  coffee." 

"  Don't  say  any  thing  about  time,  whatever  you  do,"  said 
the  four-o'clock;  "I  am  the  only  one  who  knows  about  time." 

"  Thyme !  thyme  !"  said  the  summer  savory.  "  There  are 
plenty  of  sweet  herbs  better  than  thyme." 

"  What  are  you  quarreling  about,  you  foolish  little 
things  ?"  said  the  sunflower.  "  I  can  tell  time ;  I  go  by  the 
sun." 

"  What  will  you  do  to-morrow,  when  the  clouds  come 
over  and  hide  the  sun  ?"  asked  a  poor-man's-weather-glass 
at  his  feet. 

"I  can  guess  at  it,"  said  the  sunflower;  "but  you  must 
be  a  very  poor-man's-weather-glass  to  talk  of  clouds  when 
the  sky  is  so  bright." 

"  I  feel  it  in  my  fibres,"  said  the  weather-glass. 

"For  pity's  sake,  can  any  one  tell  me  if  it  is  four  yet?"  said 
the  four-o'clock.  "  Here  I  have  been  gossiping,  and  forget- 
ting all  about  it." 

"  I  can  see  the  clock,"  said  a  sweet  pea,  on  tiptoe.  "  It  is 
half  past  four." 


SELECTIONS    FOR  THE   LITTLE   FOLKS.  189 

"Dear  me!"  said  the  four  -  o'clock ;  "I  promised  these 
buds  they  should  be  out  to-day,  and  now  they  will  have  to 
wait  till  four  to-morrow  morning,  and  then  there  will  be  no 
one  to  see  them  but  the  early  birds.     It  is  too  bad." 

"  Only  blame  to  yourself,  madam,"  said  a  thistle. 

The  four-o'clock  made  no  reply,  for  she  knew  she  would 
suffer  if  she  meddled  with  him.  The  next  morning,,  early, 
the  gardener  came  to  make  a  bouquet.  He  made  it  of  love- 
ly pink  sweet  peas,  purple  pansies,  rose-buds  wet  with  dew, 
the  modest  mignonette,  the  spicy  carnation,  fragrant  gera- 
nium leaves,  and  delicate  heliotrope. 

"  Every  bouquet  should  have  a  bit  of  yellow,"  said  the 
gardener,  as  he  added  a  dandelion.  "There!  that  finishes  it, 
and  it  is  fit  for  a  queen ;"  and  he  carried  it  away. 

"  Just  to  think !  He  took  that  saucy  dandelion,  and  left 
me,"  said  the  lady's-slipper. 

"  What  is  a  bouquet  without  me  ?"  said  the  tulip,  tossing 
her  head.     "  No  matter;  I  shall  live  the  longer." 

"So  shall  I,"  said  ragged  robin;  but  no  one  took  any  no- 
tice of  him,  because  he  was  a  ragged  robin. 


CHOICE  OF  TRADES.—  From  the  Festival 

A  RECITATION  FOR  LITTLE   BOYS. 

This  recitation  should  be  accompanied  with  appropriate 
action.  Thus  the  farmer  should  make  the  motion  for  sow- 
ing, reaping,  plowing,  binding,  and  pitching  away ;  the  car- 
penter for  planing,  hammering,  and  sawing ;  the  mason  for 
bricklaying  and  smoothing ;  the  smith  for  blows  on  the  an- 
vil, and  the  shoemaker  for  sewing  shoes,  etc. 

First  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
I'll  be  a  farmer  if  I  can — and  I  can  ! 
I'll  plow  the  ground,  and  the  seed  I'll  sow ; 
I'll  reap  the  grain,  and  the  grass  I'll  mow; 
I'll  bind  the  sheaves,  and  I'll  rake  the  hay, 
And  pitch  it  up  on  the  mow  away, 

When  I'm  a  man. 
Second  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
I'll  be  a  carpenter  if  I  can — and  I  can ! 


190  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

I'll  plane  like  this,  and  I'll  hammer  so, 
And  this  is  the  way  my  saw  shall  go. 
I'll  make  bird-houses,  and  sleds,  and  boats, 
And  a  ship  that  shall  race  every  craft  that  floats, 
When  I'm  a  man. 

Third  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
A  blacksmith  I'll  be  if  I  can — and  I  can  ! 
Clang,  clang,  clang  shall  my  anvil  ring, 
And  this  is  the  way  the  blows  I'll  swing. 
I'll  shoe  your  horse,  sir,  neat  and  tight, 
Then  I'll  trot  round  the  square  to  see  if  it's  right, 
When  I'm  a  man. 

Fourth  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
A  mason  I'll  be  if  I  can — and  I  can  ! 
I'll  lay  a  brick  this  way,  and  lay  one  that, 
Then  take  my  trowel  and  smooth  them  flat ; 
Great  chimneys  I'll  make ;  I  think  I'll  be  able 
To  build  one  as  high  as  the  Tower  of  Babel 
When  I'm  a  man. 

Fifth  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
I'll  be  a  shoe-maker  if  I  can — and  I  can  ! 
I'll  sit  on  a  bench,  with  my  last  held  so, 
And  in  and  out  shall  my  needles  go. 
I'll  sew  so  strong  that  my  work  shall  wear 
Till  nothing' is  left  but  my  stitches  there, 
When  I'm  a  man. 

Sixth  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
A  doctor  I'll  be  if  I  can — and  I  can ! 
My  powders  and  pills  shall  be  nice  and  sweet, 
And  you  shall  have  just  what  you  like  to  eat ; 
I'll  prescribe  for  you  riding,  and  sailing,  and  suoh ; 
And,  'bove  all  things,  you  must  never  study  too  much 
When  I'm  a  man. 

Seventh  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
I'll  be  a  minister  if  I  can — and  I  can ! 
And  once  in  a  while  a  sermon  I'll  make 
That  will  keep  little  boys  and  girls  awake ; 


SELECTIONS    FOR   THE    LITTLE  FOLKS.  191 

For  ah  !  dear  me  !  if  the  ministers  knew 
How  glad  we  are  when  they  get  through  ! — 
When  I'm  a  man. 

Eighth  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
A  teacher  I'll  be  if  I  can — and  I  can  ! 
I'll  sing  to  my  scholars,  fine  stories  I'll  tell ; 
I'll  show  them  pictures,  and,  well — oh !  well, 
They  shall  have  some  lessons — I  s'pose  they  ought ; 
But  oh  !  I  shall  make  them  so  very  short, 
When  I'm  a  man. 

Ninth  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
I'll  be  a  school-committee  if  I  can — and  I  can  ! 
'Bout  once  a  week  I'll  come  into  school, 
And  say, "  Miss  Teacher,  I've  made  a  rule 
That  boys  and  girls  need  a  good  deal  of  play ; 
You  may  give  these  children  a  holiday" — 
When  I'm  a  man. 

Tenth  Boy.  When  I'm  a  man,  a  man, 
I'll  be  a  president  if  I  can — and  I  can  ! 
My  uncles  and  aunts  are  a  jolly  set, 
And  I'll  have  them  all  in  my  cabinet , 
I  shall  live  in  the  White  House ;  and  I  hope  you  all. 
When  you  hear  I'm  elected,  will  give  me  a  call 
When  I'm  a  man. 

(All  in  concert,  or,  if  they  can  not  be  trained  to  speak  it 
in  concert  so  as  to  make  every  word  understood,  let  the  best 
speaker  step  forward,  and  repeat  alone  in  a  distinct  voice), 

When  we  are  men,  are  men, 
I  hope  we  shall  do  great  things ;  and  then, 
Whatever  we  do,  this  thing  we  say, 
We'll  do  our  work  in  the  very  best  way ; 
And  you  shall  see,  if  you  know  us  then, 
We'll  be  good,  and  honest,  and  useful  men — 
When  we  are  men. 


192  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

MYSTERIES.— From  the  Little  Corpora!. 

Where  are  you  going,  dear  little  feet  ? 

Restless,  pattering  things ! 
Bearing  your  burden,  soft  and  sweet, 

Swift  as  the  swallow's  wings. 

What  are  you  doing,  dear  little  hands  ? 

Busy  from  morn  till  night ! 
Counting  the  hours  by  golden  sands. 

Charming  with  new  delight. 

What  are  you  saying,  dear  little  tongue  ? 

Chattering  all  day  long, 
Words  that  the  wild  birds  teach  their  young . 

Sweeter  than  peach  or  song.- 

What  are  you  seeking,  wandering  eyes  ? 

Gazing  away  to  the  West ; 
Watching  the  rosy,  sunset  skies, 

Where  the  day  sinks  to  rest. 

Ah  !  little  tender  baby  soul, 
Wonderful  dreams  are  yours ! 

Life  must  be  sweet  when  life  is  new, 
Long  as  the  world  endures. 


WATER. 

Water !  water  !  cries  the  bird, 
With  his  singing,  gentle  note : 

And  the  liquid  sound  is  heard 
Pouring  from  his  little  throat ; 

Water !  water !  clear  and  sweet ! 
Te-weet !  te  weet ! 

Water !  water !  roars  the  ox, 
While  it  rushes  at  his  side, 

Down  among  the  mossy  rocks 
Rippling  with  its  crystal  tide ; 

Water !  water !  pure  and  true  ! 
Moo !  moo ! 


SELECTIONS    FOR  THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  193 

Water !  water  !  said  the  tree, 

With  its  branches  spreading  high ; 

Water !  water !  rustled  he, 
For  his  leaves  were  very  dry ; 

Water !  water  for  the  tree, 
Pure  and  free. 

Water!  water!  said  the  flower, 

Whispering  with  its  perfumed  breath ; 

Let  me  have  it  in  an  hour, 

Ere  I,  thirsting,  droop  in  death ! 

Water !  water !  soft  and  still, 
Is  my  will 

Water !  water  !  said  the  grain, 

With  its  yellow  head  on  high ; 
And  the  spreading,  fertile  plain, 

Ripening,  joined  the  swelling  cry ; 
Water  for  the  grains  of  gold ! 
Wealth  untold ! 

Water !  water !  sparkling,  pure, 

Giveth  Nature  every  where — 
If  you  drink  it,  I  am  sure 

It  will  never  prove  a  snare. 
Water  is  the  thing  for  me — 
Yes,  and  thee. 

Water !  water !     Young  and  old 

Drink  it,  crystal-like  and  sweet; 
Never  heed  the  tempter  bold — 

Smash  him  underneath  your  feet ! 
Water !  water !     Youth,  for  thee — 
Thee  and  ma 


TOMMYS  WEEK.—  From  the  Little  Corporal 

The  first  day,  of  course,  was  Sunday.  Sunday  always 
comes  first  in  my  weeks,  though  I  have  heard  people  say  it 
came  away  down  at  the  end,  after  Saturday.  It  came  first 
in  Tommy's  week,  but  he  didn't  know  much  about  it  until 
he  waked  up  one  morning  and  found  the  sun  shining  very 

I 


194  MANUAL   OF    READING. 

bright,  and  wondered  why  his  mamma  didn't  get  up  and 
dress  him.  Then  he  crept  out  of  bed,  and  went  to  the  win- 
dow, and  stood  there  in  his  little  night-gown  watching  an 
old  robin  that  was  feeding  her  babies  with  worms  for  break- 
fast. The  baby  robins  opened  their  mouths  very  wide,  and 
seemed  to  relish  their  breakfast,  which  reminded  Tommy 
that  he  wanted  his  own.  But  when  he  turned  around  from 
the  window,  he  saw  his  new  red  trumpet  lying  on  the  floor, 
and  he  picked  it  up  and  blew  it  very  loud  indeed.  It  waked 
up  every  body  in  the  house.  Bridget  thought  it  was  the 
milkman,  and  clattered  out  the  door  with  one  foot  halfway 
into  her  shoe;  and  Tommy's  mamma  opened  her  eyes  very 
wide,  and  said, 

"  Why,  Tommy  Bancroft !  didn't  you  know  it  was  Sun- 
day morning  ?" 

And  that  was  the  first  Tommy  ever  remembered  about 
Sunday.  After  breakfast  Uncle  Jim  didn't  go  to  the  city, 
but  sat  and  read  with  his  pretty  new  slippers  on,  and  Tom- 
my was  dressed  up  in  his  white  linen  clothes  and  buttoned 
gaiters,  and  had  his  yellow  hair  curled  into  queer  little  curls 
that  didn't  stay  in  very  well,  and  went  wTith  his  mamma  to 
a  great  house  with  a  bell  on  the  top  of  it.  They  called  it  a 
church.  Tommy's  mamma  told  him  he  mustn't  talk  in 
church.  There  were  a  great  many  other  people  there,  and 
nobody  talked  at  all  except  one  man  in  a  kind  of  a  box  high 
up  at  one  end,  and  that  man  talked  all  the  time.  Tommy 
thought  perhaps  he  didn't  know  any  better.  There  was  a 
little  girl  in  the  next  seat  with  a  blue  and  white  feather  in 
her  hat.  She  looked  at  Tommy  a  good  deal,  and  Tommy 
looked  at  the  feather.  He  wondered  if  it  was  a  rooster's 
feather.  He  thought  he  should  like  to  have  a  rooster  with 
such  feathers.  Then  the  little  girl's  hat  began  to  move 
about,  then  there  were  two  hats  and  two  blue  and  white 
feathers — Tommy  saw  them;  then  three  hats,  then  four, 
then  the  whole  air  was  full  of  them,  and  Tommy  laid  his 
head  down  in  his  mother's  lap,  and  didn't  remember  any 
more. 

They  must  have  gone  home  after  a  while,  for  Grandma 
Bancroft  was  there  to  dinner,  and  she  had  her  black  velvet 


SELECTIONS    FOR   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  195 

bag  with  beads  around  the  bottom.  Tommy  liked  to  play 
with  the  beads,  and  sometimes  Grandma  Bancroft  used  to 
open  the  bag  and  give  him  some  caraway  seeds,  or  red  and 
white  peppermint  candies.  This  time  she  gave  him  two 
raisins,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  tell  her  about  the  sermon. 

"  They  didn't  have  any  of  them  fings  to  my  church,"  said 
Tommy,  innocently. 

He  thought  about  it  while  he  was  eating  his  raisins,  and 
then  he  said, 

"  Was  that  what  the  men  passed  around  in  the  boxes, 
gamma?    I  didn't  take  any  of  that.     Wish't  I  had." 

Grandma  tried  to  explain  about  the  sermon,  and  told  the 
little  boy  how  the  minister  was  trying  to  tell  the  people  how 
to  be  good.     But  Tommy  didn't  understand. 

"  He  didn't  speak  to  me  'tall,"  he  insisted ;  "  kept  talkin' 
to  himself  all  the  time.  Course  if  he  talked  to  me  I  should 
understood  him ;  what  you  s'pose  .?" 

But  by-and-by  mamma  took  Tommy  on  her  lap  and  told 
him  all  about  Samuel,  the  little  boy  that  talked  with  God ; 
and  about  David,  the  shepherd-boy  that  slew  the  great  gi- 
ant ;  and  about  Jesus,  the  dear  Savior,  who  lived  and  died 
to  save  just  such  boys  as  he;  and  then  Tommy  felt  very 
good  and  very  loving,  and  meant  to  mind  his  mamma  as 
long  as  he  lived,  and  always  let  the  baby  have  his  red  ball 
and  his  trumpet,  and  say  please  to  Bridget,  and  not  cry 
when  his  face  was  washed.  He  said  his  little  prayer  very 
earnestly  and  heartily,  though  he  was  sound  asleep  two  min- 
utes afterward.  And  after  that,  Sunday  always  came  regu- 
lar in  Tommy's  week. 

Monday. 
Monday  was  Tommy's  own  day,  and  he  liked  it  the  very 
best  of  all.  First,  because  it  was  washing  day,  which  was 
the  very  reason  mamma  didnH  like  it  at  all.  He  knew  it 
wras  Monday  the  very  minute  he  woke  up,  because  there  was 
his  red  plaid  dress  and  gingham  apron  for  him  to  wear.  He 
always  wore  that  dress  washing  days,  and  baking  days,  and 
days  when  mamma  was  too  busy  to  look  after  him ;  and 
Tommy's  heart  always  gave  a  great  jump  of  delight  when 


196  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

he  saw  it,  for  he  knew  he  could  dig  in  the  dirt  with  the 
fire-shovel,  and  nobody  would  say, 

"  Why ',  Tommy  Bancroft^  look  at  your  new  clothes" 

When  his  mamma  dressed  him,  she  said, 

"  I  can't  stop  to  curl  your  hair  this  morning,  because  it's 
washing  day"  and  then  Tommy  was  gladder  yet.  When  he 
was  a  man  he  meant  to  have  all  his  hair  cut  close  to  his 
head,  so  nobody  could  curl  it ;  it  always  made  him  so  cross 
to  have  it  pulled. 

After  breakfast  mamma  tied  his  old  straw  hat  under  his 
chin,  and  told  him  to  run  and  play  like  a  good  boy.  Tom- 
my went  straight  out  to  the  sink-drain  in  the  back  yard. 
There  was  quite  a  little  river  of  soap-suds  running  through 
it,  and  Tommy  fished  in  it  a  while  with  the  handle  to  his 
mother's  parasol  that  he  found  on  the  hall -table.  She 
shouldn't  have  left  it  there,  you  know.  Then  he  thought 
he  would  build  a  dam  across  the  drain,  and  he  threw  down 
the  parasol,  and  went  in  to  get  the  fire-shovel  to  dig  with. 
Bridget  was  cross,  and  said  she  wanted  the  shovel  herself — 
did  he  think  she  was  going  to  put  in  coal  with  her  fingers  ? 
Then  he  thought  he  would  take  a  case-knife,  and,  while  he 
was  looking  for  one,  he  spied  his  mother's  silver  pie-knife  in 
the  spoon-basket ;  it  was  broad  and  flat,  pretty  much  like  a 
shovel,  and  Tommy  thought  he  could  make  it  do. 

"Course  she'd  let  me  take  it;  won't  hurt  it  'tall,"  said 
Tommy  to  his  conscience ;  but  he  was  very  careful  to  keep 
it  out  of  Bridget's  sight  as  he  trudged  back  to  the  drain. 
He  found  a  nice,  soft  place  to  dig  dirt  in  the  middle  of  one 
of  mamma's  flower-beds;  it  was  full  of  little  sticks  to  show 
where  the  seeds  were  planted  a  few  days  before,  but  they 
had  not  come  up,  and  Tommy  thought  it  must  be  because 
there  was  too  much  dirt.  He  pulled  off  his  hat  for  a  cart, 
and  it  was  splendid  fun  to  load  it  up  with  the  pie-knife,  and 
drag  it  to  the  drain  by  the  ribbons.  Pie-knives  are  not 
made  to  dig  in  the  dirt  with,  and  pretty  soon  it  began  to 
curl  up  at  the  point,  and  then  the  handle  doubled  down  side- 
ways, and  Tommy  threw  it  down  with  the  parasol,  saying  to 
himself,  "I  guess  Uncle  Jim  can  fix  it." 

While  he  was  squatted  up  in  the  very  middle   of  th« 


SELECTIONS   FOR   THE   LITTLE   FOLKS.  197 

drain,  somebody  emptied  another  tub  full  of  suds,  and  it 
came  swashing  along,  and  washed  Tommy  and  the  dam  away 
together.  He  gave  one  little  squeal  of  astonishment ;  but, 
though  he  was  very  wet  and  muddy,  he  only  put  on  his  dirty 
Little  hat  and  started  after  the  gray  kitten  that  was  watch- 
ing a  bird  under  the  raspberry  bushes.  He  chased  her  three 
times  around  the  garden  and  twice  under  the  fence,  but  he 
couldn't  catch  her,  though  he  tore  the  brim  half  off  from  his 
hat,  and  did  something  to  the  skirt  of  his  plaid  dress  that 
made  it  hang  down  around  his  feet.  Then  he  went  into  the 
coal-cellar,  and  climbed  up  and  down  the  great  mountain  of 
coal,  and  played  he  was  a  traveler  climbing  up  some  icy 
mountains,  like  some  men  Uncle  Jim  read  about.  When  he 
wras  tired  of  this  he  thought  it  must  be  dinner-time,  he  was 
so  hungry ;  so  he  started  for  the  house.  There  was  an  ele- 
gant carriage  at  the  gate,  and  he  wondered  if  his  Aunt  Sue 
hadn't  come  to  bring  him  the  velocipede  she  promised  him. 
He  went  to  look  for  his  mamma,  but  she  wasn't  in  her  room, 
or  the  dining-room,  or  the  nursery.  So  he  walked  straight 
into  the  parlor,  and  there  was  his  pretty  mamma,  in  her 
nice  ruffled  morning  dress,  and  there  were  two  strange  la- 
dies and  the  minister's  wife  ! 

Dear !  dear !  how  his  mamma  looked  !  She  felt  as  if  she 
should  faint  away;  and  the  strange  ladies  said,  "Is  this  your 
youngest,  Mrs.  Bancroft  ?"  and  tried  not  to  laugh  ;  but  the 
minister's  wife  said, "  Come  here,  Tommy?  and  then  she  gave 
right  up  and  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 
Tommy's  mamma  laughed  too,  though  she  looked  at  first  as 
if  she  was  going  to  cry ;  and  Tommy  stood  there  with  his 
old  torn  skirt  hanging  down  over  his  muddy  little  trowsers 
and  stockings,  his  old  torn  hat-brim  flopping  about  his  shoul- 
ders, and  his  hands,  and  face,  and  long  yellow  hair  all  black 
and  grimy  with  coal-dust,  and  wasn't  one  bit  ashamed  ! 

Tuesday. 
If  it  had  not  rained  that  day  it  never  would  have  hap- 
pened ;  but  before  Tommy  had  half  finished  his  breakfast, 
Uncle  Jim  got  up  and  walked  to  the  front  window,  and  re- 
marked that  "it  was  raining  cats  and  doss.*' 


198  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Tommy  looked  up,  with  his  mouth  full  of  bread  aud  but* 
ter,  to  see  if  Uncle  Jim  was  really  in  earnest ;  but  as  he 
looked  perfectly  sober,  he  immediately  scrambled  down 
from  his  chair  and  rushed  to  the  window,  expecting* to  see 
a  shower  of  black  and  white  kittens,  wTith  a  smart  sprin- 
kling of  curly  dogs.  What  he  really  saw  wTas  a  very  mud- 
dy river  rushing  along  through  the  gutter ;  two  men,  with 
tin  pails  and  short  pipes,  tramping  down  the  street ;  and  a 
miserable-looking  dog,  with  a  bone  in  his  mouth,  picking  his 
way  through  the  mud.  He  looked  as  if  he  might  have  rained 
down ;  but  Tommy  knew  he  didn't,  because  he  knew  where 
he  lived  up  the  alley,  and  he  had  often  seen  him  sneaking 
around  the  back  door  after  bits  which  Tommy  threw  away 
when  he  took  his  lunch  out  of  doors.  Just  at  that  instant 
Uncle  Jim  came  in  from  the  back  hall,  and  said,  in  a  very 
dreadful  voice, 

"  Now,  then,  Tommy  Trotter,  where  are  my  rubbers  ?" 

When  any  thing  was  lost  in  that  house,  they  always  asked 
Tommy  about  it.  It  was  a  habit  they  had  of  supposing  that 
Tommy  had  had  it,  especially  if  it  was  something  he  never 
ought  to  touch. 

Tommy  forgot  all  about  the  cats  and  dogs,  and  looked  at 
Uncle  Jim,  and  said  quickly,  "I  d'n  know." 

That  was  a  habit  Tommy  had,  and  he  always  said  "IcPn 
know"  before  he  stopped  to  think.  But  he  did  know  very 
well,  and  so  he  said, 

"  Oh  yes,  Uncle  Jim.  They're  over  to  Billy's  house,  in 
the  big  troft  where  the  horse  drinks.  Me  and  Billy  sailed 
'em  for  boats,  all  full  wid  oats,  and  they  sinked  down  to  the 
floor  of  the  water." 

"Why, Tommy  Bancroft,"  said  his  mamma,  looking  great- 
ly troubled,  "what  shall  I  do  with  you ?" 

Uncle  Jim  looked  at  him  very  soberly,  and  said, 

"Well,  young  man,  here  I  am,  two  miles  from  my  office, 
and  no  rubbers.  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  mean  to 
do  about  it.  You  ought  to  buy  me  some  .more.  I  shall 
catch  my  death  of  cold,  and  then  how'll  you  feel,  sir?" 

Tommy's  face  brightened  in  a  minute. 

"Oh,  I'll  buy  you  some  more,"  said  he,  and  trotted  away 


SELECTIONS   FOR   THE   LITTLE    FOLKS.  19lJ 

to  get  his  bank,  which  had  a  loose  floor,  so  that  whatever 
you  put  in  at  the  top  could  be  easily  shaken  out  at  the  bot- 
tom, an  arrangement  Tommy  found  very  satisfactory.  The 
first  thing  that  came  out  was  a  quarter,  very  new  and  crisp ; 
but  Tommy's  heart  never  faltered. 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  you  can  buy  you  some  more  rubbers, 
and  I  won't  never  sail  'em  in  the  troft." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Uncle  Jim,  putting  the  money  in  his 
pocket,  and  going  into  the  hall. 

"  Uncle  Jim,"  called  Tommy,  "  if  there's  any  change  left, 
you  buy  me  some  pea-nuts,  will  you  ?" 

Uncle  Jim  nodded  and  said,  "  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  as  he 
strode  out  into  the  rain. 

Tommy's  mamma  gave  the  baby  her  breakfast,  talked  a 
while  with  Bridget  about  supper,  dusted  the  parlor,  and 
watered  the  ivy  in  the  bay-window,  and  then  she  put  the 
baby  on  the  floor  in  the  dining-room,  and  gave  her  some 
clothes-pins  and  a  tin  pan  to  play  with.  Tommy  had  his 
Noah's  ark,  but  he  had  to  keep  it  on  the  table,  because  the 
baby  put  the  camels  and  elephants  into  her  mouth  when- 
ever she  got  a  chance,  and  once  she  sucked  all  the  paint  off 
from  Shem,  Ham,  and  Japheth,  and  made  herself  quite  sick. 
Ellen  was  ironing  in  the  kitchen,  and  Mrs.  Bancroft  said, 

"Now,  Ellen,  it  is  such  a  rainy  day  nobody  will  be  in,  and 
I  am  going  up  to  look  over  the  winter  clothing,  and  put  it 
away.  The  children  will  do  very  well  in  here,  but  you  must 
keep  your  door  open,  and  look  in  once  in  a  while." 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Ellen ;  "  Tommy's  gettin'  right  handy  to 
mind  the  baby,  when  he  tries." 

"  Oh,  I'll  tend  to  her,"  said  Tommy,  who  was  trying  to 
stand  Mrs.  Noah  on  the  ridge-pole  of  the  ark;  "Ellen 
needn't  mind  about  us  at  all." 

So  Tommy's  mamma  went  away  up  stairs,  and  Ellen  hur- 
ried with  her  ironing,  looking  out  once  in  a  while  through 
the  rain  to  see  if  the  grocer's  young  man  was  not  coming 
for  his  orders.  When  he  did  come  she  shut  the  dining-room 
door,  because  the  baby  was  always  frightened  at  the  grocer's 
young  man,  though  Ellen  herself  did  not  seem  at  all  afraid 
of  him.     It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  Tommy  spied  a 


200  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

bottle  of  mucilage  on  the  clock-shelf  over  the  table,  and  ^ 
struck  him  instantly  what  a  fine  thing  it  would  be  to  fasten 
on  the  elephant's  trunk  and  Noah's  head  again.  It  was 
quite  easy  to  reach  it  and  pull  out  the  cork ;  but  there  did 
not  happen  to  be  any  brush,  so  Tommy  was  forced  to  use 
one  of  his  fingers,  which  answered  very  well,  only  he  had  to 
wipe  it  frequently  upon  his  apron.  Noah's  head  refused  to 
stick,  and  so  did  the  elephant's  trunk,  though  he  tried  it  on 
most  all  the  animals. 

Then  he  concluded  he  would  paste  up  hand-bills,  as  he 
had  seen  men  do  on  the  street.  So  he  got  baby's  little, 
soft,  white  hair-brush,  and  poured  out  some  of  the  mucilage 
in  the  seat  of  Uncle  Jim's  table-chair.  Then  he  dipped  the 
brush,  and  stuck  pieces  of  the  morning  paper  on  the  walls, 
on  the  doors,  on  the  stove,  and,  last  of  all,  he  happened  to 
remember  how  he  had  seen  a  funny  man  walking  through 
the  streets  with  hand-bills  on  his  hat  and  his  back ;  so  he 
pasted  some  papers  on  the  baby's  back,  and  on  the  top  of 
her  poor  little  bald  head.  Baby  had  no  hair  to  speak  of, 
but  she  did  not  at  all  fancy  this  way  of  dressing  it,  so  she 
set  up  a  loud  scream  of  anger,  and  at  that  very  moment 
came  a  ring  at  the  door-bell. 

"Dear !  dear !"  said  Tommy's  mamma,  peeping  out  at  her 
chamber  window,  "  if  there  isn't  Miss  Dilly  Dean,  come  to 
spend  the  day." 

Mamma  hurried  down  to  the  door  to  receive  Miss  Dilly, 
who  stood  in  the  hall,  with  the  inky  water  running  off  from 
her  umbrella,  and  making  a  little  black  river  on  the  oil- 
cloth. 

"You  didn't  look  for  me  to-day,  I'm  sure,"  said  Miss  Dilly, 
"  but  I  thought  I  should  be  sure  of  a  good  long  visit  all  to 
myself,  because  it  rained  so." 

Ellen  went  back  to  try  to  hush  the  baby,  and  Tommy 
stood  in  the  door  with  the  hair-brush  in  his  hand,  while 
mamma  said, 

"  Well,  come  right  into  the  dining-room,  Miss  Dilly,  and 
dry  your  feet;  we  keep  a  fire  there  on  account  of  the 
baby." 

And  Tommy  kept  on  staring  at  Miss  Dilly's  funny  little 


SELECTIONS    FOR   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  201 

curls,  until  mamma  pushed  Uncle  Jim's  chair  to  the  grate, 
and  said, 

"  Sit  right  down  here,  Miss  Dilly ;"  and  Miss  Dilly  sat 
down. 

Mamma  began  to  pick  up  things  about  the  room,  and  by- 
and-by  she  found  the  empty  mucilage  bottle,  and  she  said, 

"  Why,  Tommy  Bancroft !  w  here's  my  mucilage  ?" 

Then  Tommy  put  his  finger  in  his  mouth,  and  looked  at 
Miss  Dilly  harder  than  ever,  and  said,  "She's  sHUn*  on  it" 

Miss  Dilly  jumped  up  as  spry  as  a  kitten,  and  the  chair 
jumped  too;  and  Miss  Dilly's  best  alpaca  dress  was  just 
about  ruined. 

I  don't  know  just  what  Tommy's  mamma  said  to  him, 
but,  whatever  it  was,  she  put  him  to  bed  afterward  to  think 
about  it.     And  that  was  what  happened  on  Tuesday. 

Wednesday. 

The  next  day  must  have  been  Wednesday,  but  Tommy 
did  not  remember  much  about  it,  for,  long  before  morning, 
he  began  to  feel  very  sick.  He  had  bad  dreams.  First,  he 
thought  an  elephant  picked  him  up  with  his  long,  crooked 
finger,  and  tucked  him  away  in  one  corner  of  his  big  mouth, 
and  Tommy  felt  very  hot  and  uncomfortable  in  there.  And 
then  he  thought  that  he  had  swallowed  the  elephant,  and 
found  him  very  cold  and  heavy,  and  altogether  too  large  for 
his  quarters.  And  the  next  Tommy  knew,  his  mamma  was 
standing  by  his  crib  with  a  lamp  in  her  hand,  looking  very 
anxious,  and  that  set  Tommy  to  crying.  He  cried  so  long 
and  so  loud  that  Uncle  Jim  came  to  see  what  was  the  mat- 
ter. Uncle  Jim  looked  very  sleepy ;  said  he  guessed  Tommy 
would  be  all  right  in  the  morning ;  most  likely  he  had  eaten 
something.  Now  that  was  one  of  Uncle  Jim's  aggravating 
ways ;  whenever  Tommy  was  sick,  he  always  insisted  it  was 
because  he  had  "  eaten  something"  as  if  boys  were  not  al- 
ways eating  something.  When  he  had  said  this,  he  felt  as 
if  he  had  done  his  whole  duty,  and  went  back  to  bed  con- 
tentedly ;  but  Tommy's  mamma  soothed,  and  petted,  and 
fussed  over  him  until  morning,  when  she  told  Uncle  Jim 
that,  in  her.  opinion,  Tommy  was  a  very  sick  boy,  and  must 

T  9 


202  .  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

have  the  doctor  at  once.  Uncle  Jim  finished  his  breakfast, 
and  then  went  into  the  bedroom  chewing  his  toothpick.  He 
sat  down  by  the  bed  and  took  Tommy  on  his  knee. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  he,  briskly,  "  are  you  going  to  the  city 
with  me  to-day  ?" 

Tommy  tried  to  smile,  but  he  only  sneezed  five  times  in 
succession. 

"  My  dear  child,  where's  your  handkerchief?"  exclaimed 
Uncle  Jim,  groping  about  in  a  bewildered  fashion,  as  if  he 
supposed-  little  boys  had  half  a  dozen  pockets  in  their 
night-gowns,  and  carried  handkerchiefs  in  them  all.  Mam- 
ma rushed  to  the  rescue,  but  by  that  time  Uncle  Jim  had 
solved  the  difficulty  by  wiping  Tommy's  nose  with  the  cor- 
ner of  the  white  counterpane. 

"It  is  only  a  cold,"  he  said,  putting  him  back  in  bed, 
"but,  if  it  will  be  any  satisfaction  to  you,  I'll  have  the  doc- 
tor come  around  and  look  at  him.  I  wouldn't  worry  about 
him,  though." 

As  if  the  dear  little  woman  could  help  it. 

Doctor  Smith  was  out  of  town,  so  Uncle  Jim  sent  Doctor 
Brown,  a  very  pompous  individual,  but  quite  good-natured. 
He  looked  at  Tommy,  and  Tommy's  mamma  watched  him 
very  suspiciously.  He  looked  at  his  tongue,  and  felt  of  his 
pulse ;  then  rubbed  his  hands  together,  and  asked, 

"Has  he  eaten  any  thing  to  disagree  with  him,  madam?" 

"JVbt  a  thing"  said  Mrs.  Bancroft,  positively;  "I'm  very 
particular  about  his  diet." 

Then  the  doctor  looked  closely  at  Tommy's  face,  which 
was  quite  red  and  blubbery,  partly  with  the  cold  and  partly 
with  crying  so  much ;  he  looked  behind  his  ears  and  under 
his  chin  ;  lifted  the  yellow  hair  from  his  neck,  and  said, 

"  Hm — m  !  has  your  son  ever  had  the  measles,  madam  ?" 

"  Never,"  said  Mrs.  Bancroft,  faintly. 

"  Then  he  has  them  now,  madam,"  said  the  doctor,  bland- 
ly. "  A  very  clear  case,  and  coming  out  finely."  And  he 
nodded  his  head  at  Tommy,  as  if  it  was  a  delightful  thing 
to  have  the  measles. 

Then  they  all  went  out ;  but^resently  the  doctor  came 
back  with  a  spoonful  of  nice  red  jelly,  and  said,  • 


SELECTIONS   FOR  THE   LITTLE   FOLKS.  203 

"  Here,  my  little  man,  is  something  nice  for  you ;  let  me 
see  you  take  it." 

Tommy  had  never  been  deceived  about  medicine,  so  he 
sat  up  directly  and  took  it  in  his  mouth ;  but  it  tasted  very 
badly,  and  he  would  have  spit  it  out,  only  the  doctor  looked 
very  fierce,  and  said  "Swallow  it,  quick!"  in  such  a  dreadful 
voice  that  Tommy  dared  not  do  any  thing  else. 

Then  the  doctor  went  away  laughing,  as  if  it  was  a  good 
joke  to  cheat  a  little  boy;  but  Tommy  lay  down  on  his  pil- 
low with  his  honest  little  heart  full  of  indignation.  By-and- 
by  he  said, 

"  Mamma,  don't  doctors  have  to  tell  the  troof  like  other 
folks?" 

Tommy's  mamma  wished  him  to  respect*  the  doctor,  but 
she  thought  it  a  great  deal  more  important  that  he  should 
respect  the  truth,  so  she  told  him  that  every  body  was  bound 
to  speak  the  truth,  and  that  it  was  not  right  to  deceive  sick 
people  or  cheat  little  boys. 

Tommy  grew  worse  instead  of  better.  There  were  the 
little  red  spots  on  his  neck,  but  no  more  measles  came  out, 
and  his  mamma  began  to  grow  alarmed.  She  wondered  if 
the  doctor  knew  so  very  much.  He  wasn't  her  doctor,  and 
she  had  not  a  particle  of  confidence  in  the  good  sense  of  any 
other  doctor  in  the  world  but  her  doctor.  What  if  Tommy 
should  die  ?  And  then  she  remembered  all  his  naughty  lit- 
tle pranks,  and  wondered  how  she  could  have  been  so  vexed 
with  him  about  the  mucilage,  and  thought,  if  he  only  got 
well,  she  should  never  be  vexed  with  him  again.  About 
noon  she  sent  Ellen  for  Uncle  Jim,  and  begged  him  to  tele- 
graph to  New  York  for  Tommy's  papa  to  come  straight 
home.  Uncle  Jim  sat  down  by  Tommy  again,  and  began 
to  question  him.  Uncle  Jim  was  a  very  obstinate  man,  and 
he  still  believed  Tommy  had  "eaten  something." 

"  Where  was  he  yesterday  ?"  he  asked. 

"In  the  house  all  day,"  said  mamma;  "don't  you  remem- 
ber how  it  rained  ?" 

"He  was  over  to  Billy's,  ma'am,  about  tea-time,"  said 
Ellen ;  "  you  mind  you  said  he  might  go  and  play  in  the 
barn." 


204  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  mamma, "  I  had  forgotten ;  but  it  was  only 
half  an  hour  or  so,  and  he  had  on  his  rubbers." 

"  Did  you  play  in  the  water,  Tommy  ?"  asked  Uncle  Jim. 

"  N-no,"  said  Tommy,  faintly ;  "  only  we  tried  to  catch  it 
in  our  moufs,  where  it  runned  down  the  roof,  and  it  went 
down  our  backs,  and  felt  awful  funny." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  Uncle  Jim ;  "and  what  else  did 
you  do  ?" 

"Noffin;  only  played." 

"  Played  what  ?  What  did  you  eat  f"  persisted  Uncle  Jim. 

"  Noffin,"  said  Tommy,  "  only  I  was  Billy's  horse,  and — 
oh  yes,  Uncle  Jim,  he  gave  me  some  shopped  feed" 

"  Chopped  feed !  what  on  earth  was  that  ?"  asked  Uncle 
Jim,  glancing  triumphantly  at  mamma. 

"Why,  turnuts  and  oats,  shopped  in  a  pail,  and  water 
mixed  in,"  said  Tommy,  with  the  pride  of  an  inventor. 

"  Raw  turnips  and  oats !  there's  a  delightful  mixture  for 
you,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Jim ;  "  and  you  ate  that  stuff,  did 
you,  Tommy  ?" 

"  Y-e-e-s,"  said  Tommy,  faintly,  as  if  it  was  not  quite  pleas- 
ant to  remember ;  " I  used  to  like  turnuts" 

Mamma  looked  perfectly  horrified ;  Ellen  pulled  the  cor- 
ner of  her  apron  and  giggled  as  loud  as  she  dared  ;  but  Un- 
cle Jim  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed  a  great,  hearty, 
ringing  laugh,  until  you  would  have  thought  the  windows 
rattled. 

"  Any  thing  more,  Tommy  ?"  he  said,  at  last ;  "  did  you 
take  any  condition-powders  ?" 

"No,"  said  Tommy,  "but  Billy  rubbed  my  neck  with 
gogling  oil,  'cause  I  had  the — the  marrow  bones" 

"  Gargling  oil !  That  accounts  for  the  measles,"  said 
Uncle  Jim,  laughing  again ;  and  then  he  wiped  his  eyes, 
and  told  Ellen  to  bring  him  a  glass  of  warm  water,  with  a 
teaspoonful  of  mustard  in  it. 

"  Now,  Tommy,"  said  he,  "  I  want  you  to  drink  this  all 
down — every  drop." 

"  Is  it  good  ?"  wailed  Tommy. 

"  Not  very,"  said  Uncle  Jim,  taking  a  little  sip ;  "  it  isn't 
very  bad,  either,  and  if  you  will  drink  it  all  before  I  count 
ten,  I'll  buy  you  a  jack-knife." 


SELECTIONS   FOR   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  205 

Tommy  drank  very  fast,  and  Uncle  Jim  had  only  counted 
eight  when  the  last  drop  was  swallowed,  and  Tommy  asked, 
with  a  shudder,  when  he  should  have  the  knife. 

"  To-night,"  said  Uncle  Jim,  watching  Tommy  curiously. 

Perhaps  you  have  taken  warm  water  with  mustard  in  it. 
If  you  have,  you  know  just  what  happened,  and  why  Tom- 
my lay  upon  his  pillow,  about  ten  minutes  afterward,  look- 
ing red  about  the  eyes  and  white  about  the  mouth,  but  feel- 
ing a  great  deal  better. 

"  Now,  youngster,"  said  Uncle  Jim,  "  I'm  going  straight 
after  that  knife,  but  I  sha'n't  get  back  till  tea-time ;  so,  if 
you  go  to  sleep,  the  time  will  pass  before  you  know  it." 

Tommy  did  go  to  sleep,  and  slept  so  long  his  mamma  be- 
gan to  worry  again,  but,  by  the  time  Uncle  Jim  came  home, 
a  sturdy  little  voice  shouted  from  the  bedroom, 

"  Uncle  Jim  !  where's  my  knife  ?" 

"  Ah !"  said  Uncle  Jim,  "  I  believe  I  have  mistaken  my 
profession.     I  should  have  been  a  doctor." 

Thursday  and  Friday. 

Yes,  and  a  good  long  night  between  them.  We  must 
take  them  all  together,  on  account  of  what  happened.  It 
would  never  do  to  make  two  stories  out  of  Tommy's  visit  to 
his  grandmother.  You  see,  there  was  something  else  be- 
sides the  visiting,  and  it  came  right  in  the  middle,  between 
Thursday  and  Friday.  That  was  when  he  was  in  the  old — 
But  wait  till  I  tell  you  the  beginning  of  it. 

Tommy  was  standing  on  a  cricket  by  the  west  window, 
flattening  his  nose  against  the  pane,  and  making  snail-tracks 
all  over  the  glass  with  his  tongue,  when  grandma  drove  up, 
with  Dolly  and  the  red  wagon.  Dolly  was  the  horse ;  and 
she  and  grandma  had  come  to  take  Tommy  out  to  the  farm 
in  Pearfield,  you  know,  where  his  grandparents  lived,  to  stay 
two  whole  days.  And  he  wasn't  going  as  a  baby,  with  some- 
body to  take  care  of  him,  but  as  a  young  gentleman  who 
could  look  out  for  himself. 

"  Nobody  ain't  goin'  wiv  me,"  said  he  to  Ellen,  triumph- 
antly.    "  I'm  jes  goin'  all  myself,  alone ;  me  'n  gamma." 

It  was  the  grandest  thing  that  ever  was  heard  of  to  go 


206  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

off  as  his  father  did,  kissing  them  all  good-by,  and,  perhaps, 
seeing  his  mother  cry  a  little. 

If  she  felt  ever  so  much  like  crying,  she  could  only  cry 
with  laughter  when  Tommy  came  down  from  the  garret, 
covered  with  cobwebs  and  dust,  and  presented  himself  in 
the  parlor,  dragging  an  old  blue  umbrella  and  a  carpet-bag 
bigger  than  himself 

"  There,  my  fings  are  all  ready,"  said  he. 

Grandma  laughed  heartily  too ;  yet  she  made  no  objec- 
tion to  the  outfit  of  the  young  traveler,  but  stowed  the  bag 
and  umbrella  into  the  wagon,  while  Tommy  was  lifted  into 
the  seat,  and  Dolly's  head  was  turned  toward  Pearfield. 

The  journey  was  not  a  long  one,  and  only  one  thing  worth 
mentioning  happened  on  the  way.  They  were  passing  a 
great  clover-field,  just  by  the  edge  of  the  pine  woods,  when 
Tommy  cried  out, 

"  Oh !  gamma,  gamma,  I  see  a  bear,  a  sittin'  right  up  on 
the  end  of  his  tail." 

Grandma  looked  where  Tommy  pointed,  and  Dolly  stop- 
ped to  look  too. 

"  Don't  you  see  him  ?"  cried  Tommy. 

"  No." 

"  Put  on  your  speckatles,  then." 

The  spectacles  were  put  on,  and,  after  a  long  while,  she 
saw  what  the  sharp  young  eyes  had  spied  so  quickly,  an  old 
woodchuck  sitting  at  the  mouth  of  his  hole.  Just  as  Tom- 
my was  proposing  to  capture  him  in  the  carpet-bag,  he 
whisked  out  of  sight ;  and  Dolly  started  off  at  a  brisk  pace, 
which  she  kept  up  without  stopping  till  she  reached  her  own 
hitching-post  at  grandpa's  gate. 

Grandpa  himself  was  there  to  meet  them,  and  lifted  the 
funny  little  boy  and  his  funny  big  baggage  out  of  the  red 
wagon.  When  he  heard  about  the  bear,  he  told  Tommy 
that  there  were  plenty  of  such  bears  in  his  fields,  and  that 
perhaps  they  would  go  and  catch  one  after  dinner. 

"  In  the  carpet  bag  ?"  asked  Tommy. 

"  Yes." 

"  We  must  have  the  'breller  to  spear  him  wiv." 

44  Of  course." 


SELECTIONS    FOR   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  207 

Long  before  grandpa  was  ready  to  go,  Tommy  was  parad- 
ing the  yard,  spearing  imaginary  bears  with  his  umbrella, 
and  putting  them  into  his  bag.  He  had  just  caught  a  fine 
large  one,  when  he  heard  a  loud  rumble,  and,  looking  up, 
saw  a  man  run  a  great  yellow  stage  out  of  the  barn  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street.  Tommy  ran  to  the  fence,  and, 
squeezing  his  chubby  face  as  far  as  possible  between  the 
pickets,  watched  the  man  while  he  washed  the  coach, 
greased  the  wheels,  one  at  a  time,  and  finally  lit  his  pipe 
and  went  away.  When  he  was  quite  out  of  sight  Tommy 
unlatched  the  gate  and  went  over  to  the  coach.  Finding 
one  of  the  doors  open,  he  climbed  up  the  iron  steps,  tugging 
the  bag  and  umbrella  after  him,  to  try  a  short  ride  by  stage 
— a  standing-still  ride,  of  course.  He  played  that  he  was 
papa  going  to  New  York ;  then  that  the  great  hole  under 
the  seat  was  a  den  full  of  bears ;  and  then  that  he  was  the 
bear  himself.  He  crawled  into  the  den.  It  was  a  funny 
place,  with  nice  straw  on  the  floor,  and  a  long  curtain  of 
leather  in  front.  He  lay  very  still  in  there,  and  softly  growl- 
ed to  his  make-believe  cubs  to  look  out  for  that  terrible  hunt- 
er, Tommy. 

Now  you  know  that  bears  are  very  sleepy  fellows,  and  it 
is  not  strange  that  this  little  wild  animal  by-and-by  fell 
asleep  in  his  den. 

Meantime  grandma  had  looked  out  of  the  front  door,  and, 
not  seeing  Tommy  any  where,  thought  that  he  had  gone 
with  grandpa  to  the  field ;  while  grandpa  himself  had  for- 
gotten the  young  bear-hunter  altogether,  and  had  gone  to 
the  field  alone. 

After  a  time  the  stage-driver  came,  harnessed  his  four 
horses  to  the  coach,  and  drove  it  away.  He  stopped  at  the 
store  to  get  the  mail-bag  and  take  in  several  passengers. 
There  was  a  fat  woman  with  a  baby,  an  Irish  servant-girl, 
a  one-legged  little  French  peddler,  and  a  stiff  old  gentleman 
with  a  gold-headed  cane.  With  this  load  the  yellow  stage 
started  for  Ryetown,  twelve  miles  away,  and  Tommy  still 
asleep  under  the  seat. 

When  he  awoke  he  couldn't  tell  where  he  was,  and  won- 
dered what  made  his  bed  rock  and  bounce  about  so.     Then 


208  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

he  heard  the  people  talking  right  over  his  head.  He  peep* 
ed  under  the  leather  curtain,  and  saw  several  pairs  of  shoes. 
Too  frightened  to  know  what  he  did,  he  lifted  the  curtain 
and  gave  one  desperate  spring,  thrusting  his  curly  head,  all 
covered  with  straw,  right  between  the  old  gentleman's  legs. 

If  a  real  bear  had  jumped  out  he  could  not  have  made 
more  confusion.  The  old  gentleman  sprang  to  his  feet, 
smashing  his  hat  over  his  eyes  by  striking  against  the  top 
of  the  coach ;  the  Irish  girl  screamed  "  Murther !"  and  tried 
to  leap  out  of  the  window ;  the  fat  woman  fainted  and  drop- 
ped her  baby ;  the  little  Frenchman  jumped  up  and  down  on 
his  orfe  leg  till  he  lost  his  balance  and  tumbled  over ;  and 
Tommy  clung  with  both  hands  to  the  old  gentleman's  panta- 
loons, and  screamed  with  all  his  might. 

I  can  not  begin  to  describe  what  followed,  or  record  the 
questions  with  which  Tommy  was  assailed,  in  English,  Irish, 
and  French,  to  all  of  which  he  could  only  say  that  his  grand- 
pa owned  Dolly  and  kept  bears,  and  that  he  was  a  bear  him- 
self when  he  went  to  sleep.  Of  course  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  take  the  little  bear  to  Ryetown,  and  send  him  back 
by  Friday's  coach.  So  he  cried  himself  to  sleep  that  night 
in  the  Ryetown  hotel,  and  early  the  next  morning  was  lifted 
into  the  yellow  stage  again.  All  the  way  back  the  driver 
wondered  what  he  should  do  with  the  boy  when  he  got  to 
Pearfield ;  but  there  was  no  need  of  worrying  about  that, 
for  every  body  in  town  knew  that  he  was  lost,  and  dozens 
of  people  were  looking  for  him  in  every  direction.  You  can 
guess  whether  any  body  was  glad  when  the  little  runaway 
was  set  down  at  grandpa's  gate,  umbrella,  carpet-bag,  and 
all. 

Grandma's  eyes  looked  very  red,  and  her  voice  trembled 
when  she  said, 

"  Why,  Tommy,  Tommy,  you  poor,  dear  child,  where  have 
.  you  been  ?" 

"  Oh,  ever'n  ever  so  far !"  said  the  young  adventurer,  with 
a  sigh ;  "  way,  way  over  most  to  the  'lutionary  war.  Has 
gampa  caughted  my  bear  ?" 


SELECTIONS    FOR   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  209 

Saturday. 

Nothing  would  induce  Grandma  Bancroft  to  keep  Tommy 
another  night,  though  he  begged  hard  to  be  allowed  to  stay 
and  spear  one  of  those  bears. 

"I  shouldn't  be  easy  a  minute  with  him  in  the  house," 
said  grandma ;  "  not  if  he  was  locked  into  the  room  and  the 
windows  nailed  up;  something  would  be  sure  to  happen  to 
him." 

So  Dolly  was  harnessed  to  the  red  wagon,  and  Tommy 
was  sent  home,  with  his  big  "  carper  bag"  filled  with  dough- 
nuts, and  caraway  cakes,  and  great  white  hickory  nuts,  and 
a  few  little  red  apples,  that  were  beginning  to  get  tough 
and  wrinkly  in  the  skin. 

His  mamma  was  delighted  to  see  him,  but  she  grew  very 
pale,  and  hugged  Tommy  hard,  when  she  heard  how  the  lit- 
tle fellow  had  been  lost  a  whole  night. 

"And  just  to  think  that  I  was  sleeping  comfortably  here 
at  home,  and  my  poor  darling  away  among  strangers,"  said 
she,  mournfully,  as  if  she  thought  it  was  very  cruel  of  her. 

"  Ho  !"  said  Tommy, "  I  wasn't  'fraid  'tall.  I  cried  a  lit- 
tle, 'cause  I  fought  gamma'd  be  a  wantin'  me." 

He  was  very  well  satisfied  to  be  at  home,  however,  and 
climbed  into  his  crib  more  pleasantly  than  usual,  for  mam- 
ma had  promised  him  that  in  the  morning  he  would  find 
something  very  nice  in  the  chair  beside  it.  He  thought  it 
would  be  very  hard  to  wait  so  long,  but  it  only  seemed  a 
minute  or  so  before  he  waked  up  and  heard  the  robins  sing- 
ing with  all  their  might  out  in  the  cherry-trees.  Mamma 
was  brushing  her  hair,  moving  about  very  softly,  so  as  not 
to  wake  baby,  and  Tommy  sat  right  up  and  looked  about 
him,  rubbing  his  eyes  with  his  little  fat  fists.  Sure  enough, 
there  was  "  something"  on  the  chair  where  he  had  left  his 
little  plaid  dress  and  ruffled  panties.  A  new  dress  ? — no, 
not  a  dress  at  all,  but  the  prettiest  little  suit;  jacket  and 
pants  of  soft  gray  cloth,  buttoned  with  shining  pearl  but- 
tons, and  trimmed  with  braid.  Tommy  could  hardly  believe 
his  eyes ;  but  he  was  on  the  floor  in  a  twinkle,  laughing  and 
chuckling,  and  trying  to  put  his  pants  right  on  over  his  long 


210  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

night-gown.  Mamma  was  almost  as  much  pleased  as  Tom. 
my  was,  and  she  helped  the  little  fellow  to  dress,  and  swung 
the  mirror  back  that  he  might  see  himself  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Just  like  a  man,"  giggled  Tommy,  thrusting  his  hands 
into  his  pockets;  and  baby  lifted  her  precious  little  head 
from  the  pillow,  and  stared  at  him  with  her  great  blue  eyes, 
as  if  she  wondered  who  that  boy  was. 

"  She  don't  know  me,"  said  Tommy,  in  still  greater  de- 
light. "JShe  won't  never  have  pants,  will  she?"  he  added, in 
a  tone  that  was  partly  pity  and  partly  triumph. 

When  he  w^ent  out  to  breakfast,  Uncle  Jim  pretended  not 
to  know  him,  and  said," Good  morning,  sir !  very  fine  weath- 
er we  are  having." 

And  then  he  asked  mamma  if  she  expected  Tommy  home 
pretty  soon. 

"  Why,  Uncle  Jim,"  said  Tommy,  showing  two  great  dim- 
ples in  his  hard  red  cheeks,  "I'm  Tommy !  Don't  you  see 
I'm  got  pants?" 

"You  Tommy?"  said  Uncle  Jim,  looking  very  much  as- 
tonished ;  "  I  should  think  not ;  you're  a  young  gentleman ; 
Tommy's  a  little  girl,  and  wears  dresses." 

"I  ain't  never  goin'  to  be  a  girl  any  more,"  said  Tommy; 
"  pretty  soon  I'll  have  boots,  and  long  sleeves  to  my  shirt." 

Tommy  was  quite  indignant  because  his  mamma  pinned 
a  napkin  around  his  neck  at  the  table,  but  Uncle  Jim  begged 
her  to  pin  his  napkin  around  his  neck,  and  informed  Tommy 
that  gentlemen  often  did  so  at  restaurants.  So  Tommy  wras 
consoled. 

u  I  suppose  you  won't  care  about  eating  pea-nuts  and  can- 
dy any  more,"  said  Uncle  Jim,  as  he  went  away. 

Tommy  was  walking  about  with  his  hands  behind  him, 
trying  to  make  his  shoes  squeak.  He  stopped  and  looked 
at  Uncle  Jim  to  see  if  he  was  in  earnest.  There  was  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye  that  reassured  Tommy,  so  he  went  on 
squeaking  his  shoes,  and  wondering  what  Billy  would  say 
to  him.  He  determined  to  go  over  immediately  and  see : 
but  mamma  spoiled  that  plan  by  telling  him  not  to  go  out- 
side the  gate  on  any  account,  or  do  any  thing  to  soil  his  new 
clothes,  because  his  papa  was  coming  home  that  very  morn- 


SELECTIONS    FOR  THE   LITTLE   FOLKS.  211 

ing,  and  Tommy  must  look  very  nice.  Tommy  forgot  Billy, 
and  jumped  around  on  one  foot  for  joy,  and  wondered  if  bis 
papa  would  know  him  in  his  pants  and  jacket. 

"Maybe  he'll  think  it's  Uncle  Jim,"  said  Tommy  to  him- 
self, and  then  he  put  on  his  uncle's  rainy-day  hat,  and  marched 
up  and  down  the  porch.  When  he  got  tired  of  this,  he  went 
into  the  kitchen  to  see  Bridget,  and  discovered,  to  his  great 
delight,  that  it  was  baking  day,  and  all  manner  of  nice-look- 
ing and  nice-smelling  things  were  being  made.  Generally, 
Bridget  sent  Tommy  out  of  the  kitchen  quick  as  a  wink,  but 
to-day  she  was  pleased  with  his  new  clothes,  and  she  was 
going  to  ride  with  her  cousin  in  the  afternoon,  so  she  said, 
"La  sakes  !  just  to  look  at  the  fine  young  gintleman ! 
Would  you  be  plazed  to  take  a  sate,  sir  ?" 

Tommy  giggled,  and  sat  down  in  the  chair  by  the  end  of 
Bridget's  table.  He  sat  very  still  for  a  few  minutes,  watch- 
ing Bridget's  bare  red  arms  as  she  beat  the  eggs  for  a  plum* 
pudding. 

"  Oh,  Bridget !"  he  said,  suddenly,  "  you're  got  holes  in 
your  elabows,"  and  then  Bridget  laughed  till  she  got  two 
more  holes  right  in  the  middle  of  her  round  fat  cheeks. 

After  a  while  he  forgot  about  being  a  gentleman,  and  be- 
gan to  tease  Bridget  for  raisins,  and  currants,  and  bits  of 
citron,  and  tastes  of  jelly,  and  lumps  of  sugar.  He  put  the 
nutmeg-grater  in  his  pocket,  and  at  last,  in  leaning  upon  the 
table  to  see  just  how  Bridget  made  the  scallops  on  the  pies, 
he  managed  to  plant  his  elbow  right  in  the  middle  of  a 
cranberry  pie,  all  ready  for  the  oven.  Tommy  screamed, 
and  so  did  Bridget ;  Tommy  in  dismay,  and  Bridget  in  an- 
ger, which  only  made  matters  worse,  as  anger  always  does, 
for  when  Bridget  jerked  Tommy  up  from  the  table  with  a 
shake  that  landed  him  on  his  feet  in  the  chair,  he  staggered 
and  tottered,  and  fell  over  backward  plump  into  the  great 
bread-pan,  which  stood  there,  full  to  the  brim  with  a  moun- 
tain of  white,  puffy  dough.  Oh  dear !  but  that  was  a  fix  to 
be  in !  and  by  the  time  Bridget  had  pulled  Tommy  out  with 
her  great  floury  hands,  rubbed  his  elbow  with  a  towel,  and 
scraped  his  pants  with  a  big  knife,  you  may  be  sure  the  new 
clothes  were  a  siorht  to  see. 


212  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

Mamma  thought  she  should  cry  at  first,  it  was  such  a  dis- 
appointment, you  see;  but  one  look  at  Tommy's  miserable 
face  made  her  so  sorry  for  her  poor  little  man  that  she 
comforted  him  very  bravely,  washed  his  sticky  hands,  and 
let  him  keep  on  his  pants,  though  they  did  look  funny  be- 
hind, especially  when  they  came  to  dry,  as  if  Tommy  had 
been  pasted  up  somewhere  and  just  broken  loose.  Tommy 
went  out  in  the  yard  again,  and  Lion,  the  big  dog,  got  up 
from  his  rug  by  the  door,  and  came  smelling  around  him,  as 
if  he  suspected  a  strange  boy  had  come  into  the  yard.  He 
didn't  seem  to  approve  of  the  new  clothes  at  all,  for  he  went 
back  to  his  rug  with  a  growl  of  disgust,  which  amused  Tom- 
my very  much.  He  followed  Lion,  and  curled  himself  up 
beside  him,  and  laid  his  head  on  his  shaggy  side. 

"Are  you  tired,  Tommy  ?"  asked  his  mamma,  looking  out 
at  the  window. 

u  Oh  no,"  said  Tommy, "  I'm  just  a  finkin." 

It  was  very  warm  and  sunny,  so  Tommy's  mamma  let  him 
keep  on  "finkin"  and  when  his  papa  came  home  he  found 
him  there  fast  asleep. 

Perhaps  you  think  that  was  enough  for  one  week,  but  it 
wasn't,  for  Tommy's  papa  brought  him  a  music  box  that 
would  play  three  tunes,  and  a  set  of  toy  horsemen  that  rode 
up  and  down  to  the  tune  of  Captain  Jinks  when  you  turned 
the  handle  to  the  box  they  stood  upon,  so  of  course  he  had 
to  go  over  after  dinner  to  show  his  treasures  and  his  new 
clothes  to  Billy.  The  result  was  dreadfully  disappointing 
so  far  as  the  new  clothes  were  concerned,  for  that  young 
gentleman  sniffed  up  his  nose  at  them  in  decided  disap- 
proval. 

"  Ho  !"  said  Billy.  "  They're  most  like  a  girl ;  only  come 
to  your  knees,  and  no  galluses.  I  don't  have  my  clothes 
that  way." 

Tommy  stared  with  his  big  eyes,  and  wondered  what  "gal- 
luses" might  be,  but  had  not  a  doubt  that  there  was  but  one 
proper  way  to  make  clothes,  and  that  was  just  like  Billy's. 
Now  Billy's  mamma  never  troubled  herself  about  the  spring 
fashions,  or  any  other  fashions.  She  had  half  a  dozen  boys, 
and  when  the  older  ones  outgrew  their  clothes,  she  just 


SELECTIONS    FOR   THE    LITTLE    FOLKS.  213 

cut  off  the  legs  a  little,  patched  the  knees  and  elbows,  and 
passed  them  on  clown  the  row.  Billy's  present  pants  hap- 
pened to  be  a  little  long,  and  a  little  baggy,  but  that  was  a 
fault  time  would  remedy ;  so,  after  inspecting  them  a  mo- 
ment, Tommy  unbuckled  his  little  trowsers  at  the  knee,  and 
stretched  and  smoothed  them  down  over  his  scarlet  stock- 
ings. It  was  no  use  ;  at  the  very  best,  they  would  not  reach 
his  ankles. 

"  Tell  ye  what,"  said  Billy,  "if  ye  had  some  galluses,  them 
pants  would  reach  down." 

"  Y-e-s,"  said  Tommy,  in  bewilderment. 

The  inventive  Billy  went  directly  to  work,  and  manufac- 
tured a  pair  of  suspenders  out  of  some  old  red  reins.  The 
short  trowsers  were  unbuttoned  from  the  jacket,  and  let 
down  to  a  desirable  length,  the  "galluses"  fastened  on  with 
pins  and  twine,  and  then  Billy  surveyed  his  work  with  tri- 
umph. 

To  be  sure  there  was  a  noticeable  gap  between  the  top  of 
the  trowsers  and  the  bottom  of  the  jacket,  but  the  red  sus- 
penders bridged  it  over,  and  Billy  remembered  to  have  seen 
the  same  lack  upon  Jake,  the  hostler ;  so  both  boys  were 
satisfied. 

"  There,  now  !"  said  Billy ;  "  now  you  look  something 
like." 

He  didn't  say  like  what,  and  Tommy  didn't  ask,  but  they 
played  with  the  soldiers  till  Ellen  rung  the  bell  for  tea. 
Then  papa  and  mamma,  looking  out  at  the  parlor  window, 
!  saw  a  funny  little  figure  coming  across  the  yard,  with  gray 
trowsers  dragging  over  its  feet,  red  suspenders  stretching 
down  in  front  across  a  puif  of  plaid  flannel  shirt,  and  a  ga\ 
little  plaid  banner  streaming  bravely  out  in  the  rear.  Tom- 
my's papa  laughed  and  shouted,  and  felt  like  rolling  on  the 
floor,  and  he  called  Uncle  Jim,  and  he  laughed  100;  but, 
though  Tommy  went  to  the  window  the  minute  he  got  in, 
to  see  what  the  fun  was,  he  couldn't  see  any  thing  at  all. 


214  MANUAL   OF   READING. 


HEEDLESSNESS,  OR  THE  CONCEITED  LITTLE  GRASS. 
HOPPER. 

There  was  a  little  grasshopper 

Forever  on  the  jump ; 
And,  as  he  never  looked  ahead, 

He  often  got  a  bump. 

His  mother  said  to  him  one  day, 

As  they  were  in  the  stubble, 
u  If  you  don't  look  before  you  leap, 

You'll  get  yourself  in  trouble." 

This  silly  little  grasshopper 

Depised  his  wise  old  mother, 
And  said  he  knew  what  best  to  do, 

And  bade  her  not  to  bother. 

He  hurried  off  across  the  fields — 

An  unknown  path  he  took — 
When,  oh  !  he  gave  a  heedless  jump, 

And  landed  in  a  brook. 

He  struggled  hard  to  reach  the  bank— 

A  floating  straw  he  seizes — 
When  quick  a  hungry  trout  darts  out^ 

And  tears  him  all  to  pieces. 

MORAL. 

Good  little  boys  and  girls,  heed  well 

Your  mothers'  wise  advice : 
Before  you  move,  look  carefully ; 

Before  you  speak,  think  twice. 


SELECTIONS 
FOR  THE   YOUNG    FOLKS. 


COLUMBIA'S  UNION  PARTY.—  From  the  School  Festival. 

characters : 
Columbia.  Brother  Jonathan. 

Uncle  Sam.  District  of  Columbia. 

The  Thirty-seven  States. 

(Columbia  dressed  in  national  colors  ;  Uncle  Sam  in  Conti- 
nental uniform  ;  Brother  Jonathan  as  an  old-time  Yan- 
kee ;  each  State  wears  a  circlet,  with  the  initials  of  her 
name.  State  characteristics  should  be  represented  as  far 
as  possible  in  the  dress  of  each  state;  thus,  Michigan  shoidd 
have  copper  chains  and  other  ornaments ;  Nevada,  of  sil- 
ver; California,  of  gold ;  Delaware  may  be  in  Swedish 
dress.  The  stage  should  be  adorned  with  flags,  stars,  and 
shields.  Columbia  must  have  a  raised  central  seat,  and 
there  should  be  a  table  for  receiving  the  gifts.  District 
of  Columbia  should  receive  and  arrange  ihern.~\ 

Miter  Uncle  Sam. 
Columbia.  Uncle  Sam  !  welcome  to  my  Union  party. 
Uncle  Sam.  Thanks,  fair  Columbia;  hope  you're  well  and 

hearty. 
Col.  Quite  well,  good  uncle ;  I'm  rejoiced  you're  here — 
It  will  be  such  support  to  have  you  near. 

Miter  Brother  Jonathan. 
And  Brother  Jonathan  I  hope  to  see — 

Brother  Jonathan.  Wal,  neow,  Columby,  shake    hands ; 
here  I  be. 
How  big  a  party  will  ye  have,  d'ye  s'pose  ? 
And  will  the  young  folks  poke  fun  at  my  clothes? 


216  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Col.  No,  no,  dear  brother — not  one  bit  of  danger ; 
You  will  not  meet  to-day  a  single  stranger. 
Only  the  children,  coming  home  once  more 
To  see  their  mother,  now  she's  ninety-four. 
Almost  a  hundred  !     Jonathan,  alas  ! 
Our  days  are  as  the  grass — like  sands  they  pass ! 

Bro.  J.  Oh  sho  !  Columby,  now  don't  cry  no  more — 
Somebody's  knockin' ;  I'll  go  'tend  the  door. 

Enter  District  of  Columbia. 

Col,  Oh !  'tis  my  little  District ;  she's  so  near, 
She  is  the  very  first  one  to  appear. 

Enter  New  England  States  ;  Uncle  Sam  receives  them,  and 
presents  them  to  Columbia;  each  salutes  her,  kisses  her 
hand,  and  then  is  placed  on  one  side  of  Columbia. 

Maine.  I  touch  this  sacred  hand  with  loving  lips. 
Receive  from  me  a  model  of  my  ships. 

New  Hampshire.  I  bring  a  sceptre  that  a  king  might 
own, 
Made  from  free  pines  from  our  Mount  Washington. 

Vermont.  And  I  a  crown-wreath  fit  to  deck  a  queen, 
Made  by  Green  Mountain  girls,  of  laurels  green. 

Massachusetts.  I  bring  you  fabrics  rich,  of  varied  stock, 
From  hills  and  vales  that  end  at  Plymouth  Rock. 

Bro.  J.  (aside).  Old  Massachusetts  never  went  out  yet 
But  what  she  bragged  on  Plymouth  Rock,  you  bet. 

Connecticut.  I  bring  my  fair,  pure  laws  to  show  to  you ; 
Mother  Columbia,  see,  they  are  ?iot  "Blue!" 

Rhode  Island  I'm  little  Rhody,  and  I  bring  you  this : 
Mother  Columbia,  bend  and  take — a  kiss. 

Col.  By-and-by,  daughters,  we  will  talk  some  more. 
Hark !  Jonathan,  pray  don't  neglect  the  door. 

Bro.  J.  Yes,  yes,  Columby,  I'll  'tend ;  don't  you  worry. 
I'll  see  who's  thumpin'  out  there,  in  a  hurry. 

Enter  New  York  :  Uncle  Sam  presents  her. 
Uncle  S.  This  is  New  York,  the  grand,proud  Empire  State. 
New  York.  I  came  alone,  because  I  have  710  mate  I 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        217 

Bro.  J.  You  jest  hold  on,  and  give  the  West  fair  chance, 
And  Illinois  will  jine  ye  in  the  dance. 

Uncle  8.  "  Hold  on"  New  York  ne'er  does,  but  Illinois 
May  catch  up,  if  she  can — she  has  her  choice. 

Bro.  J.  Wal,  here's  New  Jersey,  fit  to  stand  beside  her, 
With  *sure's  you  live,  a  jug  of  Newark  cider ! 

Pennsylvania.  And  I,  Penn's  Keystone  State,  with  loyal 
soul, 
Offer  Columbia  samples  of  my  coal. 

Col.  Jonathan,  the  door. 

Bro.  J.  Wal,  neow,  I  dew  declare, 
Ef  here  don't  come  eour  little  Delaware ! 
And  she's  got  on  the  same  old  Swedish  dress 
She  wore  in  sixteen  thirty-seven,  I  guess  ! 

Col.  My  eldest  daughter,  and  my  little  pet, 
Say,  do  you  love  your  dear  old  mother  yet  ? 

Delaware.  Yes,  true  and  dear,  Columbia,  as  when 
I  was  thine  only  child,  and  loved  thee  then. 

Maryland.  I  bring  a  heavy  offering  in  my  hand : 
"Tis  useful  iron  ore,  from  Maryland. 

Bro.  J.  Neow,  ra'ally,  Columby,  that  ain't  bad — 
No  knowin'  how  soon  you'll  need  an  iron-clad. 

East  and  West  Virginia.  We  went  where  sad  Mount  Ver- 
non's willow  weeps, 
To  bring  thee  flowers  from  where  thy  hero  sleeps. 

Col.  It  is  an  omen  good  that  thus  ye  came — 
One  memory,  one  love,  almost  one  name. 

Uncle  8.  See,  for  thy  blessing  three  now  bend  and  wait : 
Georgia,  "  Palmetto,"  and  the  "  Old  North  JState." 

Georgia.  I've  sweet  potatoes,  best  the  South  can  yield. 

North  and  South  Carolina.  We've  rice  and  cotton  from 
sea-isle  and  field. 

Mississippi  and  Alabama.  More  cotton  from  the  Gulf's 
rich  shores  we  bring ; 
Thine  is  the  cotton,  though  the  cotton's  king. 

Florida.  I  offer  garlands  from  the  land  of  flowers, 
Culled  in  my  lowland  swamps  and  live-oak  bowers. 

Bro.  J.  Wal,  I  remember  when  them  beowers  was  holes 
To  hide  awav  the  skulkin'  Seminoles  ; 

K 


218  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

And  when  the  harnsome  flowers  you  had  were  fewer'n 
Creek  Injins  in  them  swampy  lands  o'  yourn. 

Louisiana.  Wrought  in  fit  forms  Columbia's  lips  to  greet, 
We  bring  bright  samples  of  our  sugars  sweet. 

Bro.  J.  (in  a  whisper).  Neow,  Rhody,  since  you're  standin' 
in  there  handy, 
You  jest  neow,  on  the  sly,  pass  reound  that  candy  ! 
Knock,  knock ;  I'm  comin' ;  wonder  who  you  be  ? 

Col.  I  welcome  Texas  !  my  "  Lone  Star"  I  see. 

California.  O'er  the  Pacific  Railroad  vast  I  came. 

Bro.  J.  Wal,  you're  a  shiner !    Tell  us  what's  your  name  ? 

Col.  I  know  my  darling  from  Pacific  shore. 

Cal.  Receive  these  chains  of  gold ;  this  golden  ore. 

Arkansas  and  Missouri.  Within  your  courts  are  gifts  that 
we  bestow, 
Our  flocks  and  herds  that  loudly  bleat  and  low. 

Bro.  J.  Neow,  Uncle  Sam,  you've  got  to  help  'tend  door, 
Here's  Western  gals  comin',  half  a  score. 
To  laugh  at  me  they'll  to  each  other  beckon — 
But  'taint  no  wuss  to  guess  than  'tis  to  reckon; 
An'  ef  they  hint  at  soup  of  codfish-tails, 
I'll  jest  hand  out  to  them  ^hoxxt  prairie  whales. 

Uncle  S.  Oh,  Jonathan,  don't  be  so  sensitive ; 
Our  family  motto  should  be,  live — let  live. 

Col.  And,  Jonathan,  I'm  sure  it  is  small  loss 
Whether  they  ride  a  horrsc,  or  you  a  hoss. 
Just  let  them  reckon,  or,  perhaps,  allow;  . 
You  calculate  and  guess — now  that  you  know. 
Since  we're  in  sections,  why,  of  course,  we're  sectional ; 
But,  seems  to  me,  we  all  may  be  affectional. 

Bro.  J.  Here's  Tennessee,  with  old  Kentuck  to  back  her. 

Tennessee  and  Kentucky.    Take,  if  perchance  you  choose, 
some  fine  tobacco.  [brook  it  ? 

Col.  {angrily).  What!  if  I  chew!    What  insult!     Shall  I 

Bro.  J.  Wal,  no ;  I'd  "  put  it  in  my  pipe  and  smoke  it." 

Uncle  S.  They  only  meant,  Columbia,  did  you  choose 
To  see  their  product  men  will  have  and  use. 

Col.  My  children,  your  old  mother  made  mistake ; 
Give  me  your  hand — receive  a  cordial  shake. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         219 

Ohio.  Fair  mother,  see  my  wealth  of  golden  corn. 

Indiana  and  Illinois.  And  ripened  grains  from  our  broad 
prairies  shorn. 

Michigan.  See,  I  from  Lake  Superior's  distant  shore 
Bring,  green  and  shining,  precious  copper  ore. 

Iowa  and  Wisconsin.  We,  from  our  mines,  bring  wedges 
of  our  lead, 
For  bullets  that  we  pray  you  ne'er  may  need. 

Minnesota,  Oregon,  and  Kansas.  We  bring  not  here  our 
gift  your  halls  to  cumber, 
But  send  to  us  for  lots  of  grain  and  lumber. 

Nevada  and  Nebraska.  We  are  your  youngest ;  open  wide 
your  hands, 
We'll  fill  them  with  our  shining  silver  sands. 

Col.  A  stranger  comes ;  pray,  Jonathan,  go  meet  her. 

Bro.J.  Wal,  neow,  I  guess  that  she's  a  curi's  creetur, 
Rigged  out  in  snow-shoes,  seal-skiu,  furs — I'll  ask  her 
To  give  her  name.     She  says  she's  Miss  Alaska. 

Col.  Uncle  Sam,  bring  her  in  ;  although  you  bought  her, 
She  shall  be  welcome  here  as  any  daughter. 

Alaska.  Thanks,  dear  Columbia ;  and  I'll  guard  your  gates 
When  hostile  hordes  pour  down — through  Behring's  Straits ! 

Bro.  J.  Hallo,  there  !  what's  that  thumpin'  now  ag'in  ? 

Col.  I  know  !  my  boys  in  the  last  Western  train. 
They  come  to  swell  my  Union  Party's  glories 
By  bringing  news  from  my  rich  territories. 

Enter  boys  from  Washington,  Idaho,  Montana,  Dakotah, 
Utah,  Colorado,  Arizona,  New  Mexico,  Indian  Terri- 
tories. These  should  be  in  backiooods  dress,  and  ivith 
rifles.     They  sing: 

Tune:  "When  Johnny  comes  marching  home." 

The  boys  they  come  marching  from  the  West ; 

Hurra !  hurra ! 

Montana,  Dakotah,  and  the  rest ; 

Hurra !  hurra ! 

With  Washington,  Colorado, 

New  Mexico  and  Idaho ; 

And  we  all  feel  gay  to  visit  Columbia. 


220  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

The  boys  they  come  marching  from  the  West ; 

Hurra !  hurra ! 

From  Utah  and  Indian,  and  the  rest ; 

Hurra !  hurra ! 

Through  grand  primeval  wilds  we  come, 

Arizona  our  farthest  home, 

And  we  all  feel  gay  to  visit  Columbia. 

Uncle  S.  (addressing  the  States).  Now,  my  fair  nieces,  hear 
a  word  from  me : 
I'd  call,  if  you  were  boys,  for  three  times  three ; 
But  gentle  maidens'  voices  lovelier  sound 
When  sweetly  sending  music-strains  around. 
So  let's  all  sing,  while  gay  we  gathered  are, 
The  grand  old  song  of  "Hail  Columbia." 

[All  sing  "Hail  Columbia." 

Columbia's  address: 
Thanks,  children — love  is  strong  and  words  are  weak; 
My  love,  your  loyalty,  no  words  can  speak. 
And  do  you  love  me  so,  and  I  so  old  ? 

Bro.  J.    Of  course    they    dew ;    must    you    ag'in   be 
told? 

Uncle  S.  Hush,  Jonathan;  don't  interrupt  the  address. 

Bro.  J.  You're  right — Columby's  got  the  floor,  I  guess. 

Col.  Well-nigh  a  hundred  am  I.     I  rejoice 
To  see  each  daughter's  face,  and  hear  her  voice ; 
And  I  rejoice,  too,  at  the  manly  strain 
That  sounds  from  Western  mount,  and  shore,  and  plain. 
I'll  happier  grow  as  on  my  swift  years  run — 
Each  daughter  fair,  and  brave  and  strong  each  son. 
Continue  true  and  loyal  unto  me, 
And  kind  and  loving  to  each  other  be ; 
Sound  welcome  o'er  the  earth,  that  all  may  come, 
And  find  in  your  broad  lands  an  ample  home. 
Bid  all  men  hasten  from  oppression's  ban, 
And  don't  be  shy  of  poor  John  Chinaman; 
Don't  have  him  brought  as  merchandise,  but  then 
Welcome  him  as  you  do  all  fellow-men. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  EOLKS.        221 

Love  virtue,  truth,  and  honor,  and  fair  Fame 
Shall  wreathe  bright  garlands  for  each  shining  name. 
There,  introduce,  shake  hands,  acquainted  be, 
And  then  we'll  all  sit  down  to  Union  tea. 

Pantomime. — Let  there  be  a  general  introducing  one  to  an- 
other,  but  only  with  motions,  keeping  perfect  silence.  Then, 
tohen  Uncle  Sam  offers  his  arm  to  Columbia,  Brother 
Jonathan  to  New  York,  let  all  choose  partners,  and 
march  around  and  off  the  stage,  to  the  tune  of  "Yankee 
Doodle." 


THE  TEA-KETTLE'S  PARTY.  —From  Our  Young  Folks. 

The  Tea-kettle  danced  and  sang,  and  sang  and  danced, 
until  Mary,  the  cook,  thought  it  would  dance  itself  off  the 
range ;  but  she  didn't  know  that  it  felt  awfully  jolly,  and 
was  telling  its  neighbor,  the  Saucepan  (who  was  boiling  po- 
tatoes for  the  dinner),  that  it  intended  to  give  a  party. 

"Why  shouldn't  we  have  a  party?"  sang  the  Kettle. 
"  We've  worked  hard  enough,  goodness  knows,  for  some 
weeks  past.  What  with  Thanksgiving,  Christmas,  and  New- 
year's-day,  we're  nearly  worn  out.  Let's  rest  a  day  or  two, 
and  then  have  a  party  ourselves." 

The  Saucepan  rattled  its  lid  in  hearty  applause,  and  held 
out  its  handle  in  token  of  ready  acquiescence. 

The  Poker  and  Shovel,  who  had  been  listening,  cried, 
"That's  an  excellent  idea!"  and  so  the  matter  was  settled. 

That  evening,  after  the  servants  had  gone  to  bed,  the 
Tongs,  who  was  the  best  walker,  on  account  of  the  length 
of  his  legs,  went  round  with  the  invitations.  Of  course  none 
of  the  China  family  were  invited,  because  they  lived  in  the 
dining-room,  and  very  rarely  associated  with  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  kitchen.  The  Tins  glowed  with  delight  when 
they  heard  of  the  party,  and  the  young  Pans  and  small  Pip- 
kins raised  such  a  clatter  that  the  Rolling-pin  gave  them  sev- 
eral round  raps  to  silence  them. 

At  last  the  long-looked-for  evening  arrived.  All  the  fam- 
ily had  retired,  and  the  kitchen  was  put  in  perfect  order. 
The  Broom  had  swept  the  floor  until  not  a  grain  of  dust 


222  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

could  be  found  on  it,  and  the  Tins  had  polished  themselves 
until  they  shone  again. 

The  Kettle  was  so  excited  that,  although  it  was  a  winter 
evening,  she  was  in  a  state  of  profuse  perspiration,  and  the 
Saucepan  had  her  round  hat  placed  on  one  side  of  her  head 
in  the  most  knowing  manner. 

The  first  arrivals  were  the  Tins.  They  lived  up  town, 
and  were  obliged  to  slide  down  the  walls,  but  this  did  not 
dim  their  lustre  in  the  least. 

"  You  all  look  as  though  you  were  brand-new  out  of  the 
store,"  said  the  good-natured  Kettle  to  them. 

Then  came  the  guests  who  resided  in  the  closets.  First 
the  Frying-pan  and  the  Griddle  stepped  out,  their  broad  faces 
shining  with  good-humor,  and  looking  as  though  they  fed 
on  the  fat  of  the  land. 

Next  came  the  Coffee-pot,  with  the  Quart-measure  lean- 
ing gracefully  on  his  arm,  accompanied  by  her  daughter, 
Miss  Pint.  Then  came  the  Gridiron  and  the  Dish-pan,  the 
latter  wearing  an  elegant  waterfall  made  out  of  the  dish- 
cloth. The  next  couple  were  the  Hash-chopper  (oh !  such  a 
sharp  fellow)  and  the  Fluting-iron,  who  wrore  her  hair  in  the 
fashionable  style,  waving  down  her  back ;  and  they  were 
followed  by  the  two  large  wooden  Spoons.  Some  Earthen 
Dishes  and  a  number  of  Pipkins  arrived  soon  after,  and  the 
party  commenced. 

The  Kettle  proposed  a  waltz,  and  although,  on  several  oc- 
casions, the  Dinner-pot  had  called  her  black,  she  kindly  for- 
gave him,  and,  taking  his  arm,  prepared  to  lead  off  the  dance. 
An  old  Guitar  in  the  corner  struck  up  a  merry  tune,  and  a 
small  Waiter  behind  the  stove  played  upon  the  tambourine. 

The  Poker  grasped  the  Shovel  round  the  wraist  and  hop- 
ped into  the  middle  of  the  room,  the  Broom  slid  off  with  the 
Window-brush,  the  Coffee-pot  danced  with  the  Quart-meas- 
ure, and  the  Griddle  pulled  the  Dish-pan  about  so  rudely 
that  her  waterfall  fell  off,  and  was  found  by  the  cook  on  the 
hearth  in  the  morning.  The  Tins  jingled  and  tinkled,  and 
even  the  Nutmeg-grater,  a  rough  old  fellow,  could  not  re- 
sist the  music,  but  seized  the  Apple-corer,  and  danced  away 
as  merrily  as  the  rest. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        223 

After  the  waltz  they  had  a  polka,  then  a  quadrille ;  then 
the  Tongs  danced  the  Sailor's  Hornpipe  in  a  manner  wonder- 
ful to  behold.  When  he  ceased  every  one  applauded  ;  even 
the  Covers  on  the  range  rattled  as  loudly  as  possible  to 
show  how  pleased  they  were. 

After  the  hornpipe  the  Kettle  made  a  steaming  bowl  of 
punch,  and  the  Broom  proposed  the  health  of  the  hostess. 
The  hostess  said  she  was  strictly  temperate,  never  drank 
any  thing  but  water,  but  never  refused  to  assist  in  making 
punch  for  those  who  liked  it.  In  water,  therefore,  she  re- 
turned the  toast,  and  hoped  they  might  all  meet  again  soon 
and  spend  another  pleasant  evening ;  she  loved  and  esteem- 
ed her  friends,  and  would  like  to  see  them  often. 

"  I'm  most  steamed,"  whispered  the  Iron-stand,  "  for  I 
hang  from  the  mantel  right  over  the  range." 

"  Joke  !"  cried  one  of  the  little  Pipkins,  and  laughed  until 
he  cracked  his  sides. 

The  company  then  dispersed;  and  the  girls,  coming  in 
next  morning,  never  dreamed  that  the  Tea-kettle  had  been 
having  a  party. 

THE  WHITE  GIANT.—  From  Our  Young  Folks. 

One  afternoon,  about  a  hundred  years  ago,  a  boy  was  sit- 
ting in  his  grandmother's  kitchen,  apparently  doing  nothing 
in  particular,  but  really  holding  a  very  remarkable  conver- 
sation with — whom  do  you  think  ? — a  white  giant ! 

Now  on  the  face  of  it,  nothing  would  seem  more  unlikely 
than  that  a  giant  should  be  found  in  a  plain  little  Scotch 
kitchen  not  more  than  eight  feet  high  from  the  bare  floor  to 
the  unplaned  rafters;  all  the  more  so  when  a  horse-shoe 
hung  by  the  chimney-side,  and  the  old  lady's  Bible,  with 
her  silver-bowed  spectacles  on  the  top  of  it,  lay  on  the  shelf. 
Nevertheless,  there  was  the  giant ;  and  there,  gazing  intent- 
ly on  the  place  of  his  imprisonment,  were  the  only  two  eyes 
in  all  Scotland  that  were  able  to  find  him  out. 

Indeed,  I  must  tell  you  that  the  giant,  in  his  proper  state, 
was  quite  invisible  ;  but,  when  he  did  appear  in  plain  view, 
it  was  in  the  shape  of  a  very  old  man  with  long  white  hair 
and  beard,  which  seemed  to  encircle  him  like  a  garment,  un- 


224  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

less,  indeed,  they  flowed  down  and  mingled  with  his  gar- 
ment; and  all — hair,  beard,  and  robe — were  whiter  than 
snow.     Therefore  he  is  called  the  white  giant. 

And  this  is  the  way  in  which  he  made  himself  known  to 
the  boy. 

Sitting  by  the  fire,  James  had  noticed  that  the  lid  of  the 
tea-kettle  was  in  a  singular  state  of  agitation.  It  would 
rise  and  fall,  and  flutter  up  and  down  in  a  very  excited  man- 
ner ;  and,  coming  as  he  did  of  a  race  that  had  believed  for 
centuries  in  witches  and  goblins,  and  many  supernatural 
creatures,  the  boy  naturally  began  to  suspect  that  some  im- 
prisoned force  or  other  was  beneath  it,  struggling  to  get- 
free. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  said  he,  very  quietly ;  "  and  what  do 
you  want,  that  you  are  so  restless  and  excited  ?" 

"  Space,  freedom,  and  something  to  do  !"  cried  the  captive 
giant  from  within. 

"  Softly !  you  have  not  told  me  yet  who  you  are,"  said 
James. 

"  No  matter  who  I  am.  I'm  pressed  down  here  into  noth- 
ing at  all,  and  I  am  a  great  strong  giant  that  wants  room  to 
work  and  be  free." 

"  Well,  well !  there's  work  enough  to  be  done,"  said 
James.  "  Never  was  a  race  that  wanted  more  done  for  it. 
But  what  can  you  do  ?" 

"Try  me  and  see.  No  one  can  do  more.  I  will  carry 
your  ships,  draw  your  carriages,  and  lift  all  your  weights. 
I  will  plow  your  fields,  sow  the  grain,  and  reap  and  thresh 
the  harvests.  I  will  hew  away  mountains  and  build  roads. 
I  will  turn  all  the  wheels  in  all  your  factories.  I  will  weave 
your  cloths,  and  print  your  books,  and  carry  them  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  In  short,  I  will  do  every  thing  that 
strength  can  do,  and  you  shall  be  the  brain  that  directs. 
I  will  be  the  faithful  servant  to  fulfill  all  your  commands." 

"  Here's  a  singular  treasure-trove  to  be  found  in  an  old 
copper  tea-kettle !"  cried  James,  rubbing  his  eyes  to  be  sure 
he  was  not  dreaming. 

"Only  shows  the  use  of  having  your  eyes  open,"  replied 
his  strange  companion.     "  I  am  one  of  the  forces  that  were 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         225 

created  to  work  for  you ;  but  you  have  a  fancy  for  drudg- 
ery, it  seems,  and  prefer  to  dig  and  weave  for  yourselves." 

"  Indeed,  we  prefer  no  such  thing,"  said  James,  laughing. 
"We  are  told  that  it  is  one  of  our  great  vices  to  require  oth- 
er people  to  work  for  us  while  we  sit  idle." 

"  That  is  very  true*when  it  is  your  brethren  that  you  are 
enslaving,"  replied  the  giant ;  "  but  you  have  not  found  out 
half  the  servants  that  were  ordained  to  work  for  you  since 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  or  else  you  would  not  be  delv- 
ing in  the  ditches  and  drudging  with  your  hands,  instead  of 
letting  your  brains  grow,  that  you  may  direct  us.  What  do 
you  mean  by  letting  little  children  toil  in  your  miserable 
factories,  and  become  dwarfed  in  body  and  soul,  when  here 
am  I,  and  a  hundred  other  giants  like  myself,  any  one  of 
whom  could  do  the  work  of  ten  thousand  of  those  babies, 
and  never  feel  it — and  you  give  us  no  work  to  do  ?" 

"  You  are  a  kind-hearted  old  genie,  I  am  sure,"  said  the 
boy ;  "  and,  if  I  live,  my  work  shall  be  to  introduce  you  to 
the  acquaintance  of  men.  But  tell  me  something  of  your 
history.  Where  have  you  been  all  these  years,  that  no  one 
has  found  you  out  ?" 

"  Where  I  am  now,  and  in  similar  places,  though  not  al- 
ways so  tightly  pressed.  And,  indeed,  I  have  not  been  idle, 
though  my  appetite  for  work  has  never  been  half  supplied. 
I  am  one  of  the  elder  children  of  the  flood,  and  began  my 
work  in  the  world  before  your  race  appeared  upon  it.  Be- 
fore the  rain  began  her  ministry,  I  arose  from  my  hidden  re- 
treats in  the  earth,  and  watered  the  earliest  of  gardens. 
Ever  since  then  I  have  been  carrying  on  a  great  system  of 
irrigation;  rising  from  the  ocean  into  the  sky,  sailing  in 
great  fleets  laden  with  treasure  toward  the  mountain-sides 
where  my  bounties  have  been  bestowed ;  sinking  then,  in  a 
slightly  altered  form,  into  the  earth,  and  visiting  the  roots 
of  all  the  trees  with  supplies  of  food — creeping  up  through 
all  their  veins  and  into  their  broad  green  leaves,  whence  I 
escape  into  the  air  again.  You  see  I  have  had  something  to 
do.  But  all  this  quiet  work  is  only  half  enough  for  me. 
Work  is  my  nature ;  so  do  not  be  afraid  of  overtasking  me. 
I  can  not  have  too  much." 

K2 


226  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

"  Indeed  you  are  a  grand  old  fellow,  and  I  am  proud  of 
your  acquaintance,"  cried  James.  "  Now  I  seem  to  remem- 
ber having  seen  you  in  April  days,  or  sometimes  in  August 
or  September,  floating  in  the  sky,  but  I  never  thought  to  be- 
come so  much  better  acquainted  with  you  in  my  grand- 
mother's kitchen." 

"  James,  James !  what  are  ye  doing  ?"  cried  the  old  lady 
from  her  straight-backed  chair.  "  Here  ye've  done  naething 
a'  the  day  but  tilt  the  cover  of  the  kettle,  like  a  lazy  lout 
that  ye  be.  Gae  to  your  tasks  noo,  like  a  mon,  and  be  of 
some  use  in  the  warld." 

"  Ah  !  grandam,"  said  James, "  I  have  been  doing  a  thou- 
sand days'  work,  sitting  here  by  the  ingleside." 

"Dinna  be  fooling,  bairn!  Dinna  be  fooling,  ye  idle 
dreamer!  Wark  and  ye'll  thrive;  be  lazy  and  ye'll  come 
to  naught." 

Nevertheless,  James's  dreams  came  to  more  use  than 
many  another  man's  work,  because  he  had  the  faculty  of 
thinking  to  a  purpose ;  and,  in  the  many  talks  he  held  with 
the  friendly  old  giant,  he  learned,  one  after  another,  the  se- 
crets of  his  power.  When  lessons  were  over,  the  giant  told 
wonderful  stories  to  his  young  disciple ;  and  perhaps  I  can 
repeat  one  of  them  in  a  few  words : 

"  In  old  times  there  was  a  long-continued  contest  between 
the  land  and  the  sea.  At  first  the  sea  had  been  the  mon- 
arch, and  ruled  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  globe.  At 
length  the  land  appeared,  claiming  a  large  part  of  his  do- 
main, and  this  enraged  the  sea,  who  beat  wrathfully  with 
whole  armies  of  billows  upon  her  shore,  and  threatened  to 
conquer  back  all  that  he  had  lost. 

"Presently  came  the  children  of  the  land:  first,  the  little 
grasses,  that,  tenderly  embracing  their  mother,  protected 
her  from  being  quite  carried  away  by  the  rude  invading  sea ; 
and  at  length  the  taller  trees,  the  great  pines  and  oaks,  that 
added  greatly  to  her  beauty  and  glory.     . 

11  Then  a  new  thought  occurred  to  the  land,  and  she  sent 
out  these  her  greater  children  to  subdue  the  sea  on  his  own 
domains.  They  rode  triumphantly  over  the  billows,  and, 
aided  by  the  friendly  winds,  plied  diligently  from  place  to 


SELECTIONS   FOR   THE    YOUNG   FOLKS.  227* 

place,  increasing  every  where  the  wealth  and  glory  of  their 
mother.  But  the  sea  arose  in  his  wrath,  and  often  ingulfed 
these  faithful  children  of  the  land,  or  broke  their  bones,  and 
cast  them  up  upon  her  lap  in  bitter  scorn  and  defiance. 

"  Then  the  land  resolved  to  take  a  more  exquisite  revenge 
than  ever  before.  And  she  called  forth  a  mighty  spirit  from 
the  bosom  of  the  sea  himself— a  weird,  white,  gigantic  genie, 
who  had  been  the  eldest  child  of  the  flood.  She  gave  him 
an  armor  of  iron  scales  which  the  sea  could  not  break,  and 
upon  him  she  laid  her  spells,  and  he  went  obediently  to  and 
fro  at  her  bidding.  Thus  the  land  was  at  last  triumphant, 
as  organized  brain  always  will  be  over  brute  natural  force ; 
and  the  children  of  men  passed  over  land  and  sea  in  safety 
toward  their  goal  of  perfect  knowledge. 

"  But  part  of  that  is  prophecy,"  said  the  white  giant, 
when  he  had  finished  the  story. 

"  It  shall  be  fact  before  many  years,"  said  James.  "  And 
you,  my  good  giant,  are  the  genie  who  shall  finish  the  tale." 

Soon  swift  cars  were  running  to  and  fro  the  whole  length 
of  the  kingdom,  propelled  by  the  giant's  arms.  Soon,  too, 
the  tasks  of  the  little  children  at  the  factories  were  done  by 
the  same  old  worker,  who  could  drive  a  million  spindles  at 
a  stroke  quite  as  easily  as  a  child  could  move  one ;  and  if 
the  children  were  still  employed,  it  was  only  to  keep  the  gi- 
ant supplied  with  work  enough,  which  indeed  was  no  easy 
task. 

His  good-nature  was  equal  to  all  the  tasks  which  could  be 
imposed  upon  him.  If  you  have  ever  seen  his  white  beard 
rising  above  the  chimney  of  some  factory  on  a  winter  morn- 
ing, or  puffing  out  of  the  escape-valve  of  some  little  tug, 
you  may  almost  have  mistaken  him,  in  the  wavy,  graceful 
lines  of  his  white  drapery,  for  a  sunny  cloud — which,  indeed, 
would  not  be  the  greatest  of  mistakes. 

Before  long  the  great  ocean-going  ships  had  the  giant  es- 
tablished in  their  holds,  and  their  ponderous  wheels  moved 
by  his  iron  arms,  so  that,  independently  of  wind  or  tide, 
they  could  hold  their  course  night  and  day,  and,  like  swiftly- 
moving  shuttles,  weave  the  continents  together  with  bands 
of  neighborly  good-will. 


228  MANUAL   OF  BEADING. 

IN  SCHOOL  DAYS.— From  Our  Young  Folks. 

J.  G.  Whittiex, 
Still  sits  the  school-house  by  the  road, 

A  ragged  beggar  sunning ; 
Around  it  still  the  sumachs  grow, 
And  blackberry  vines  are  running. 

Within,  the  master's  desk  is  seen, 
Deep  scarred  by  raps  official ; 

The  warping  floor,  the  battered  seats, 
The  jack-knife's  carved  initial; 

The  charcoal  frescoes  on  its  wall ; 

Its  door's  worn  sill,  betraying 
The  feet  that,  creeping  slow  to  school, 

Went  storming  out  to  playing. 

Long  years  ago  a  winter  sun 

Shone  over  it  at  setting, 
Lit  up  its  western  window-panes, 

And  low  eaves's  icy  fretting. 

It  touched  the  tangled  golden  curls, 
And  brown  eyes  full  of  grieving, 

Of  one  who  still  her  steps  delayed 
When  all  the  school  were  leaving. 

For  near  her  stood  the  little  boy 

Her  childish  favor  singled, 
His  cap  pulled  low  upon  a  face 

Where  pride  and  shame  were  mingled* 

Pushing  with  restless  feet  the  snow 
To  right  and  left,  he  lingered ; 

As  restlessly  her  tiny  hands 

The  blue-checked  apron  fingered. 

He  saw  her  lift  her  eyes ;  he  felt 
The  soft  hands  light  caressing, 

And  heard  the  tremble  of  her  voice, 
As  if  a  fault  confessing. 

"I'm  sorry  that  I  spelt  the  word : 
I  hate  to  go  above  you, 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        229 

Because" — the  brown  eyes  lower  fell — 
"  Because,  you  see,  I  love  you  !" 

Still  memory  to  a  gray-haired  man 

That  sweet  child-face  is  showing. 
Dear  girl !  the  grasses  on  her  grave 

Have  forty  years  been  growing. 

He  lives  to  learn,  in  life's  hard  school, 

How  few  who  pass  above  him 
Lament  their  triumph  and  his  loss, 

Like  her — because  they  love  him. 


NEW  GOWNS.—  From  Our  Young  Folks. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  beautiful  lady,  who  had 
the  loveliest  dresses — such  as  never  were  seen  before.  First, 
she  had  a  long  robe  of  rich  green  velvet,  embroidered  all 
over  with  flowers  of  every  color ;  its  train  was  decked  with 
silver  spangles,  and  sparkling  ribbons  of  silver  flowed  from 
the  wide  and  flashing  silver  girdle  at  her  waist  down  to 
her  feet,  and  here  and  there  masses  of  feather  trimming,  of 
the  richest  green,  decorated  the  seams  and  hems,  and  green 
plumes  waved  around  her  snowy  tresses ;  for  she  was  old  as 
she  was  beautiful,  showing  age  alone  in  these  glittering  coils 
of  blanched  hair.  Whenever  she  moved,  the  silver  girdle, 
wide  as  a  breastplate,  swayed  and  shimmered  about  her,  and 
the  green  plumes  bent  slowly  and  gracefully.  Nothing, 
men  thought,  could  be  more  beautiful  than  her  garment ; 
but  she  was  a  woman,  and  got  very  tired  of  it.  Now  the 
lady  had  two  old  uncles — Uncle  Jack  and  Uncle  Sol ;  they 
did  not  agree. at  all,  and,  when  one  refused  what  she  wanted, 
the  other  was  sure  to  give  it  to  her.  So,  when  she  got  wea- 
ry of  her  green  robe,  she  told  Uncle  Sol  she  wanted  a 
change  of  raiment. 

"Fy!  fy!"  said  the  portly  old  gentleman,  who  wore  a 
yellow  coat,  somewhat  spotted,  and  had  fire-red  hair ;  "  how 
long  have  you  worn  that  gown,  my  dear?  I  know  very 
well,  for  I  gave  it  to  you ;  no,  indeed.  Do  you  see  me  get- 
ting new  coats  ?    The  idea  is  absurd  !" 

He  turned  his  face  away  from  her,  and  she  was  so  angry 
she  ran  straight  off  to  find  Uncle  Jack. 


230  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

Uncle  Jack  was  a  funny  old  man  with  keen  gray  eyes, 
and  his  long  hair  and  wavy  beard  were  like  drifted  snow. 
All  his  clothes  were  white,  and  trimmed  with  crystal  but- 
tons, and  in  his  hand  he  carried  a  tiny  slender  spear  of  crys- 
tal, on  wThose  tip  glittered  a  diamond  point,  clear  and  cold 
as  a  star;  it  was  an  enchanted  spear  that  never  broke  or 
wore  out,  and  he  could  work  wonders  with  it. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Jack !"  said  the  lady, "  do  give  me  something 
new  to  wear;  I  am  so  tired  of  green  and  silver !" 

"  Why,  my !   I  think  your  dress  is  very  fresh  and  rich  yet." 

"  That's  what  Uncle  Sol  says." 

"  Oho !  the  gruff  old  rascal  has  been  denying  you  what 
you  wanted,  has  he?     I'll  see  to  your  dress,  my  dear  !" 

With  that,  Uncle  Jack  took  up  his  magic  wTand,  and  light- 
ly touched  the  feather  trimming  and  the  plumes,  and  all  at 
once  they  flashed  into  the  most  gorgeous  colors — scarlet 
glowing  like  coals,  yellow  as  fierce  as  July  sunshine,  mass- 
es of  deep  gleaming  garnet,  and  spots  of  dusky  purple  and 
light  vivid  crimson  on  the  trimming,  while  the  plumes 
waved  with  here  and  there  a  golden  spire,  or  a  feather  of 
flame,  interspersed  with  dark  velvety  green,  pallid  yellow, 
or  shining  brown. 

"  There  !"  said  Uncle  Jack, "  are  you  satisfied  ?" 

The  lady  looked  at  her  face  in  one  of  the  broad  burnished 
silver  ribbons,  and  smiled,  for  she  was  lovely  as  a  dream ; 
all  the  air  about  her  seemed  steeped  in  sunshine,  and  in  her 
girdle  and  her  sashes  the  splendid  colors  floated  and  flowed 
like  jewels  poured  out.  Uncle  Jack  laughed  to  see  her  so 
pleased. 

But  after  a  while  the  velvet  gown  began  to  fade  and  grow 
threadbare ;  its  folds  and  edges  showed  dull  brown ;  the 
embroidery  of  blossoms,  and  leaves,  and  berries,  that  had 
strewed  it  with  many  a  gay  wreath  and  graceful  tendril,  or 
starred  it  with  tiny  flowers,  was  all  frayed  away  and  fallen 
off.  The  silver  ribbon  still  shone,  but  the  robe  itself  had 
become  a  dead  brownish-yellow,  and  the  glorious  plumes 
had  dropped  one  little  featherling  after  the  other,  till  of 
them  and  of  the  trimming  there  was  nothing  left  but  bare 
gray  stems  and  tracery. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        231 

The  lady  wept  bitterly.  Uncle  Sol  had  turned  the  cold 
shoulder  toward  her,  and  she  was  half  afraid  of  Uncle  Jack, 
he  had  so  lately  clothed  her  in  magnificent  robes. 

There  was,  however,  no  one  else  to  help  her,  so  she  called 
loudly  for  him,  and  he  came. 

There  was  a  sly  smile  in  his  keen  gray  eye  as  he  looked 
at  the  lady.  "  Rags  and  tags,  hey,  madam  ?  Well  for  you 
that  Uncle  Jack  lives  within  hearing." 

So  saying,  he  passed  his  wand  across  her  again,  and  about 
her  shoulders  and  waist  hung  trails  of  exquisite  lace  of  the 
most  delicate  tracery  and  purest  whiteness,  and  a  white  tis- 
sue robe  fell  softly  over  the  worn  velvet,  and  hid  it  with  a 
sheeny  mist.  The  plumes  were  covered  and  tipped  with 
lacework  too,  and  the  beautiful  lady  smiled  again  to  see 
how  delicately  fair  her  robes  showed  in  the  morning  light. 
But  hardly  had  she  enjoyed  their  grace  and  purity  for  an 
hour  or  two  when  along  came  the  other  old  uncle. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !"  laughed  Uncle  Sol ;  "  here  you  are  in  another 
new  gown !  In  white  lace,  like  a  young  girl  at  her  wed- 
ding !  This  is  too  absurd  for  a  woman  of  your  age.  I  can't 
allow  it !" 

Now  Uncle  Sol's  magic  was  in  his  face;  if  he  once  looked 
hard  and  long  at  any  thing  it  ran  away,  and  now  he  stared 
fixedly  at  the  lovely  lace  raiment.  Horrible  to  relate,  it 
ran  away  as  he  looked  in  streams  of  gray  shreds,  and  even 
drops  like  tears,  till  the  beautiful  lady  stood  weeping  bitter- 
ly in  her  old  brown  gown,  and  the  gray  sticks  of  her  feath- 
ers looking  worse  for  the  silver  ribbons. 

Now  she  began  to  sob  and  wail ;  the  plumes,  featherless 
as  they  were,  rustled  in  her  hair  like  a  storm  of  pitiful  whis- 
pers and  sighs,  and  the  silver  girdle  and  breastplate  heaved 
up  and  down  till  it  grated  on  her  brown  robe  heavily,  and 
frayed  it  still  more. 

"  Oh,  Jack !    dear  Uncle  Jack  !"  she    cried ;  "  come  !  do 


come 


i" 


In  he  bustled  and  hustled  with  a  great  crackling  and 
whistling,  for  he  was  very  busy  and  hard  at  work.  Up  went 
both  his  withered  hands  in  surprise. 

"  What  a  sight  to  behold  !  all  that  lace  gone  !    My  dear3 


232  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

you  cost  too  much ;  you  are  so  tall  and  large,  one  needs 
stores  as  broad  and  deep  as  the  sky  to  clothe  you !" 

The  lady  drew  herself  up  and  looked  at  Uncle  Jack. 
Now,  indeed,  she  was  a  piteous  sight ;  all  her  fair  face  and 
dingy  robe  marred  with  tears  and  shreds,  her  beauty  worn 
with  grief  and  rage,  and  her  broad  shoulders  wearing  no 
trace  of  their  late  filmy  covering. 

"  Look  at  me,  Uncle  Jack  !" 

That  was  enough. 

"  Poor  child  !  poor  child  !"  said  he,  pitifully.  "  I  will  give 
you  a  garment  that  Uncle  Sol  may  stare  at  as  much  as  he 
likes,  but  it  will  take  a  long  while  to  make  it." 

So  off  went  Uncle  Jack  into  upper  air,  and  borrowed  of 
the  sprites,  who  prepare  wool  and  crystal  in  those  high 
dwellings,  their  most  spotless  and  heavy  fleeces.  These  he 
floated  softly  down  upon  the  beautiful  lady  till  they  rested 
upon  her  brown  mantle  and  covered  it  completely,  hiding 
even  the  holes  about  her  sides  and  elbows ;  then  he  waved 
his  wand  till  the  stainless  wool  grew  into  a  lovely  robe,  so 
white  and  sparkling  that,  if  one  but  looked  upon  it,  the  wa- 
ter would  stand  in  his  eyes.  Another  touch  of  the  diamond- 
tipped  spear,  and  the  silver  ribbons  turned  to  polished  steel; 
steel  bound  the  girdle  and  breastplate  with  a  broad  bright 
edge.  The  lady  was  more  splendid  than  ever ;  one  thing 
alone  was  wanting — a  new  set  of  plumes. 

"  Whew  !  whew  !"  said  Uncle  Jack ;  "  must  I  travel  up 
stairs  again  ?"  and  off  he  went  to  borrow  dew-crystal  of  the 
sprites  who  had  already  lent  him  wool;  they  were  kindly 
sprites  indeed,  for  they  showered  the  bright,  clear  drops  he 
wanted  all  over  the  feather  trimming,  and  the  plumes  also, 
and,  as  they  clung  to  the  delicate  stems  and  tendrils,  Uncle 
Jack  pointed  his  spear-tip  at  them,  and  they  changed  to  dia- 
monds. How  they  sparkled,  and  danced,  and  shone !  how 
«  every  sigh  that  fluttered  about  made  the  myriad  rainbows 
thrill  and  quiver !  how  blinding  was  the  blaze  of  their  splen- 
dor !  how  glorious  the  lady  in  her  jewels  and  her  brilliant 
robe  !  She  looked  as  a  queen  might,  adorned  for  her  bridal, 
and  from  her  clear  bright  girdle  and  ribbons  shone  back  al] 
the  stars  of  heaven. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        233 

"  There  !"  said  Uncle  Jack ;  "  I  think  I  have  done  well  for 
you ;  you  can  defy  Uncle  Sol  now  as  to  the  gown.  I  won't 
answer  for  the  diamonds — he  hates  jewelry ;  but  don't  come 
screaming  after  me  again  for  a  long  time,  my  lady  !  I  have 
business  on  hand ;"  and  off  he  went. 

The  beautiful  lady  smiled,  and  all  the  wonderful  brilliants 
about  her  rustled,  and  flashed,  and  blazed  for  joy.  Poor 
lady  !  it  was  but  the  very  next  morning  Uncle  Sol  looked 
at  her  over  his  shoulder.  "  Ridiculous  old  creature!"  growl- 
ed he.  "Zknow  when  she  was  born,  if  nobody  else  does;  and 
for  a  person  whose  years  are  more  than  she  likes  to  make, 
known  to  be  wearing  jewelry,  and  such  jewelry,  is  enough 
to  make  one  laugh.     No,  never  can  I  allow  it !" 

So  saying,  he  stared  at  the  diamonds  with  all  his  might 
and  main.  How  they  burned  under  his  gaze !  how  every 
tiny  speck  shot  out  a  blaze  of  anger  and  splendor !  Their 
glory  was  blinding,  but  it  was  brief.  Presently  they  began 
to  drop  from  the  plumy  stems — tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle  !  faster 
and  faster,  with  a  sweet  and  bright  sound  like  the  ring  of 
fairy  sleigh-bells,  or  the  laugh  of  fairy  babies,  down  they 
showered,  tumbling  on  the  beautiful  lady's  shoulders,  over 
her  steel,  ribbons,  and  on  her  beaming  girdle  and  breast- 
plate— tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle !  ringing  their  tiny  peals  of  deli- 
cate music,  and  glittering  where  they  fell.  Alas  !  in  a  mo- 
ment more  they  were  but  tears. 

Uncle  Jack  no  longer  listened  to  the  lady's  calls;  her 
jewels  were  gone,  and  who  could  replace  them  ?  She  wore 
the  stainless  robe  without  ornaments  save  the  steel  and 
steel-bound  silver  of  her  ribbons  and  girdle ;  and,  being 
careless,  in  a  few  months  the  white  garments  gathered  stains 
and  grew  threadbare,  and  was  no  longer  fair  to  see. 

Then  she  bethought  herself  of  Uncle  Sol,  who  had  ceased 
turning  his  face  away  from  her,  and  made  friends  with  him 
once  more,  so  that  he  again  clothed  her  with  soft  and  fresh 
green  garments,  with  newer  and  even  more  exquisite  trailing 
embroideries  and  misty  green  trimmings ;  he  renewed  her 
graceful  plumes,  and  changed  ribbons  and  girdle  to  shin- 
ing silver  once  more.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  the  beautiful 
lady  was  never  at  a  loss  for  robes  between  the  two  old 


234  MANUAL    OF   HEADING. 

uncles.     And  so  it  hath  been,  and  shall  be  whiie  the  world 
endures. 

Ah  !  if  only  I  had  an  Uncle  Jack  and  an  Uncle  Sol,  I 
should  never  again  say  I  had  nothing  to  wear,  and  sigh  over 
my  lack  of  gowns. 

LECTURE  ON  HEAT.—  From  Our  Young  Folks. 

BY   MY   LORD   HIGH   FIDDLESTICK. 

"His  name  is  Force,"  squeaked  the  little  traveler;  "but, 
for  the  sort  of  person  that  he  is,  I  can  not  say,  your  royal 
highness,  seeing  that  he  is  sometimes  as  great  as  a  giant, 
and  at  others  as  fine  as  a  thread;  only  that  he  is  the  worst- 
used  and  best-natured  individual  in  your  majesty's  domin- 
ions; for  there  is  not  a  ship  or  a  house,  a  road  or  a  gar- 
den made,  or  a  dinner  got,  or  so  much  as  a  cup  of  water 
drawn,  without  his  help.  He  is  wanted  to  do  every  thing 
every  minute  of  the  day  all  over  the  earth,  and  he  does  it 
without  grumbling ;  and  now,  mark  how  he  is  paid  !  Ev- 
ery time  that  he  gives  any  body  a  neighborly  lift,  from  saw* 
ing  a  stick  of  wood  to  dragging  a  train,  he  disappears.  He 
is  destroyed.  All  day  long  he  is  smashed,  blown  up,  choked, 
your  royal  highness,  under  your  royal  highness's  very  nose 
— under  every  body's  nose— made  away  with,  done  for,  mur- 
dered, used  up,  in  a  hundred  thousand  places  all  at  once, 
by  Christians  and  heathens  all  alike — which  your  majesty 
will  see  is  quite  improper.  For  if  it  is  so  very  bad  to  choke, 
blow  up,  and  murder  a  man  once,  how  much  worse  to  do 
all  these  things  to  a  person  all  the  time !  and  if  your  high- 
ness would  protect  even  a  thief  from  such  abuse,  how  is  it 
that  there  is  nobody  to  say  a  word  for  poor  Force,  who  wags 
your  very  heads  for  you  ?  and  whose  blame  is  it  ?" 

When  the  little  traveler  said  "  Whose  blame  is  it  ?"  he 
looked  hard  at  the  king.  The  king  was  quite  thrown  out 
of  countenance — for  here  was  a  very  bad  case,  you  see,  made 
out  against  somebody — and  he  looked  severely  at  the  Lord 
High  Fiddlestick,  because  it  was  understood  that,  when  any 
thing  happened  to  be  right,  the  credit  was  due  to  the  king ; 
but,  when  any  thing  was  wrong,  the  blame  fell  to  my  Lord 
High  Fiddlestick.     As  the  king  looked  severe,  the  courtiers 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        235 

looked  severe  also,  and  as  if—  Come,  now,  this  was  really 
too  bad,  and  a  little  the  worst  thing  they  had  heard  yet  about 
my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick.  But  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick 
only  crossed  his  pink  slippers  comfortably  one  over  the  oth- 
er, and  said, 

"  Your  majesty,  there  is  no  one  to  blame  here.  The  gen* 
tleman  is  quite  right  and  entirely  wrong." 

The  little  traveler  jumped  up.  He  was  wrapped  from 
head  to  heels  in  a  large  overcoat  full  of  pockets.  Out  of 
one  pocket  he  took  a  bit  of  iron  and  a  hammer.  He  laid  the 
iron  on  the  table,  and  pounded  it  with  the  hammer. 

"  There  !"  he  said  ;  "  Force  did  that ;  but  now  where  has 
he  gone,  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick  ?"  Then  he  pulled  at 
his  mustache,  and  stamped  his  foot,  and  got  out  a  saw  and 
a  piece  of  wood,  and  had  off  an  end  of  the  wood  before  you 
could  wink.  "Force  did  that  too,"  said  the  little  traveler; 
"  but,  if  he  did  not  die  in  doing  it,  can  you  tell  where  he  is 
now,  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick  ?"  Then  he  drew  out  a  pis- 
tol, and,  aiming  at  the  third  leg  of  the  king's  extension  ta- 
ble, sent  a  bullet  at  it  as  savagely  as  if  it  had  been  the  Lord 
High  Fiddlestick  himself. 

"  Force  did  that  too,"  screamed  the  queer,  angry  little 
man, "  and  now  where  is  he  ?  I  am  not  to  be  put  off  with  a 
riddle  about  being  quite  right  and  entirely  wrong.  If  he  is 
dead,  as  you  are  to  blame  for  whatever  happens  in  this  coun- 
try, you  ought  to  be  hung  at  once ;  and  if  he  is  not  dead,  I 
will  trouble  you  to  show  him  to*me." 

"  Good  Mr.  Traveler,"  answered  my  Lord  High  Fiddle- 
stick, picking  up  the  saw, "  will  you  feel  of  that  ?  It  is  cold, 
is  it  not  ?  and  the  wood — that  is  cold  too.  Well,  now,  sup- 
pose you  saw  us  off  another  bit  of  wood.  Thank  you.  Feel 
now  of  the  wood.  Is  it  cold,  just  as  it  was  before?  No? 
You  mean  to  say  that  it  is  warmer  ?  Touch  the  saw.  That 
is  warmer  too.  Very  good.  Here  are  your  iron  and  your 
hammer.  Will  your  majesty  touch  them?  You  see  they 
are  cold  enough.  Now,  my  friend,  favor  us  with  a  little 
more  of  that  lively  pounding  which  you  say  your  friend 
Force  died  to  do.  How  are  your  iron  and  hammer  ?  I  de- 
clare ! — feel,  your  majesty — they  are  both  warm.     Now  for 


236  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

the  pistol.  Here  is  a  target — but  stop !  feel  the  bullet.  It 
is  cold,  of  course.  Fire  away  !  Very  good  !  But  the  bul- 
let !  feel  it,  Mr.  Traveler.  Your  majesty  perceives  that  it  is 
quite  hot — this  bullet,  which  was  cold  a  moment  ago !" 

"What  if  it  is?"  growled  the  traveler. 

My  Lord  High  Fiddlestick  put  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of 
his  green  satin  gown  and  laughed. 

"  Ah  !  Mr.  Traveler,  you  have  not  learned  all  the  old  tricks 
of  your  friend  Force.  Just  now  he  pounded  a  cold  bit  of 
iron  with  a  cold  hammer.  Then  he  was  gone,  nowhere  to 
be  seen — dead,  you  said ;  but  you  found  heat  in  the  iron  and 
the  hammer.  You  sawed  a  cold  piece  of  wood  with  a  cold 
saw.  That  done— whisk  !  Force  was  lost ;  but  there  was 
heat  in  the  wood  and  saw.  You  fired  your  cold  bullet  at  a 
cold  target.  Off  went  force,  but  there  was  heat  again  in 
the  bullet.  Whenever  you  lose  force  you  find  heat.  What 
does  that  mean  ?  You  say  that  Force  is  sometimes  a  giant. 
Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  he  may  be  a  giant  with  two 
heads  under  his  hood  ?  Let  us  follow  this  giant  a  little  far- 
ther. He  is  pulling  a  train  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  an 
hour.  You  put  on  the  brakes,  the  train  stops.  Force  is 
gone  from  the  engine,  but  what  do  you  find  at  the  wheels, 
where  the  brake  rubbed  on  them  ?  Why,  so  much  heat  that 
you  see  fire  and  sparks ;  and  the  engine-driver  sends  a  man 
to  rub  grease  on  the  wheels  of  the  train.  Why  ?  Because, 
if  the  wheels  turn  around  with  difficulty,  the  engine  can  not 
pull  the  train  so  fast ;  Force,  who  should  give  all  his  atten- 
tion to  urge  the  engine,  must  give  a  part  of  his  strength  to 
the  wheels ;  and  just  as  much  as  he  gives  to  the  wheels,  just 
so  much  is  lost  to  the  engine." 

"  As  if  every  school-boy  did  not  know  that !"  growled  the 
little  traveler. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick.  "You 
say  every  school-boy  knows  that ;  but,  when  Force  goes  to 
the  wheels,  what  shape  does  he  take  ?  He  is  there  turning 
the  wheels  in  spite  of  themselves,  and  the  engine  is  missing 
him,  and  these  ungreased  wheels  show  that  he  is  there. 
How?  By  their  heat.  You  miss  Force  from  the  engine. 
The  last  time  he  was  seen  he  was  ^oins:  to  the  unsrreased 


SELECTIONS    FOR  THE    YOUNG   FOLKS.  237 

wheels.  You  go  to  the  wheels.  You  see  no  Force  there, 
but  a  stranger ;  but  if  it  is  the  giant  Force  that  you  have 
lost  from  the  engine,  this  stranger  will  be  a  giant ;  if  Force 
is  at  his  pigmy  tricks,  the  stranger  will  be  a  dwarf;  and,  in 
either  case,  he  will  tell  you  his  name  is  Heat.  While  you 
are  staring  at  him,  you  observe  something  familiar  about 
him,  and  you  say,  *  Pray,  Mr.  Heat,  have  I  not  seen  you  be- 
fore somewhere  about  the  engine?  You  are  the  fireman,  per- 
haps !'  '  Exactly,'  answers  Heat.  *  I  was  in  the  fire  under 
the  boiler.'  Under  the  boiler !  Why,  that  is  where  our  lost 
Force  came  from.  Put  it  all  together.  You  put  heat  under 
the  boiler,  and  force  comes  out  and  pulls  the  train.  You 
miss  Force,  and,  when  you  go  to  look  for  him,  you  find  Heat 
in  his  place.  Is  it  not  reasonable,  good  Mr.  Traveler,  to 
think  that,  as  Heat  can  turn  into  Force,  Force  can  turn  back 
into  Heat  again  ?" 

"Your  royal  highness,"  cried  the  little  traveler,  jumping 
up  in  a  great  rage, "  I  hope  your  royal  highness  won't  listen 
to  such  stuff*  as  this.  Heat  a  person,  indeed !  Heat  is  a 
fluid,  and  it  is  called  caloric.  I  see  my  Lord  High  Fiddle- 
stick is  laughing,  but  he  won't  laugh  long.  Here  is  the 
dictionary,  and  the  word  in  it  to  prove  what  I  say;  and 
the  ungreased  wheels  were  hot  because  they  turned  so 
hard  that  some  of  their  caloric  was  squeezed  out  of  them ; 
and  when  the  hammer  came  down  hard  on  the  iron,  some 
of  the  caloric  was  squeezed  out  of  that,  and  all  the  old  phi- 
losophers say  so ;  and,  if  you  want  us  to  believe  that  force 
is  not  burned  in  the  fire,  and  blown  off*  from  the  engine,  and 
crushed  under  the  wheels,  but  is  turned  into  heat,  you  must 
make  us  swallow  the  dictionary  and  the  old  philosophers 
first." 

"  I  see  I  must  tell  you  a  little  story,"  answered  my  Lord 
High  Fiddlestick,  gently.  "As  my  friend  Count  Rumford 
and  your  friend  Force  were  one  day  boring  a  cannon,  Count 
Rumford  tried  to  pick  up  some  of  the  brass  chips  that  Force 
had  just  cut  off,  and  discovered  that  they  were  hotter  than 
boiling  water.  Brass  is  not  generally  hotter  than  boiling 
water.  Before  we  go  farther,  perhaps  you  will  tell  us,  Mr. 
Traveler,  what  had  happened  to  these  chips." 


238  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

"  Why,  the  boring  had  squeezed  so  much  caloric  fluid  into 
these  chips,"  answered  the  traveler. 

"Then,  of  course,"  said  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick,  "if 
the  brass  chips  held  so  much  more  heat-fluid  than  they  ever 
held  before,  they  must  be  altered  in  some  way.  If  you  were 
going  to  put  say  a  quart  of  heat-fluid  in  chips  that  only 
held  a  pint  before,  you  must  alter  your  chips.  But  Count 
Rumford  found  that  the  chips  were  not  altered ;  that  is,  if 
you  are  right,  Mr.  Traveler,  a  pint  could  hold  a  quart ;  and 
he  thought  that  wras  tougher  to  swallow  than  the  old  phi- 
losophers. So  he  took  a  hollow  tube  of  brass  called  a  cylin- 
der. In  it  he  put  a  flat  piece  of  hard  steel.  The  steel  w7as 
almost  as  large  as  the  cylinder,  so  that  it  could  just  turn 
around  the  steel.  He  put  the  cylinder  in  a  box  filled  with 
water.  A  horse  was  made  to  turn  the  cylinder  round  and 
round.  The  piece  of  steel  rubbed  hard  all  the  time  on  the 
bottom  of  the  brass  cylinder.  The  brass  grew  warm  and 
the  water  grew  wrarm.  Count  Rumford  and  a  great  many 
people  stood  watching  it  curiously.  The  cylinder  turned 
and  turned,  all  the  time  growing  hotter.  The  water  all  the 
time  grew  hotter  too ;  and,  at  the  end  of  two  hours  and  a 
half,  the  water  was  so  hot  that  it  boiled.  Now,  Mr.  Travel- 
er, what  makes  water  boil  ?" 

"  Heat,"  answered  the  little  man,  sulkily. 

"  Well,  there  was  no  heat  here,"  cried  my  Lord  High  Fid- 
dlestick — "  only  force ;  and  force  made  the  water  boil. 
Own  up,  Mr.  Traveler.  It  begins  to  look  as  if  Heat  and 
Force  were  the  same  person." 

"I  shall  not  own  any  thing  of  the  sort,"  answered  the  lit- 
tle man.  "  Pray,  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick,"  catching  up 
the  hammer  and  bringing  it  down  hard  on  the  iron,  "  how 
did  force  turn  into  heat  then  ?" 

"This  iron,"  said  my  lord,  "is  made  of  what  we  call 
atoms — tiny  particles  too  small  to  be  seen  separately." 

"  Bosh !"  snorted  the  traveler. 

"  These  atoms,"  said  the  Lord  High  Fiddlestick,  "  are  held 
fast  together  by  a  liking  they  have  for  each  other — an  at- 
traction that  we  call  cohesion.  Force  strikes  this  iron  with 
the  weight  of  the  hammer.     He  jars  the  iron ;  he  jars,  he 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        239 

stirs  the  atoms ;  they  can  stir,  although  their  band  of  cohe- 
sion holds  them  so  close  that  they  look  as- if  they  were  stuck 
tight  together.  The  hammer  is  down.  You  would  say 
Force  is  dead.  I  say  he  has  gone  in  among  those  atoms ;  he 
is  carrying  on  the  stir  and  jar  from  one  atom  to  the  other. 
'  Stop  !'  says  Cohesion,  trying  to  hold  them  fast.  '  Go  on  V 
cries  Force.  The  atoms  of  iron  can  not  get  away  from  one 
another,  but  they  can  move.  Force  makes  them  move  and 
struggle.  When  you  struggle  you  get  warm.  When  the 
atoms  of  iron  struggle,  they  make  what  my  friend,  Lord  Ba- 
con, calls  the  fire  and  fury  of  heat.  They  actually  get  far- 
ther away  from  each  other;  and  this  is  why  philosophers 
will  tell  you  that  heat  makes  a  body  larger. 

"  This  hard,  solid  iron  is  actually  a  little  larger  than  when 
it  was  cool,  because  the  atoms  have  succeeded  in  getting  far- 
ther from  each  other.  Now  all  the  king's  horses,  and  all  the 
king's  men,  if  you  could  set  them  to  tug  on  each  side  of  this 
little  bit  of  iron,  have  not  strength  to  do  that.  It  required  a 
great  force,  stronger  than  all  the  king's  horses  and  men.  But 
who  did  pull  the  atoms  ?  Heat.  Then  heat  is  force,  or  per- 
haps I  should  say  motion ;  for,  when  we  struck  this  iron  with 
the  hammer,  and  it  became  warmer,  what  had  happened  re- 
ally ?  Why,  the  motion  of  the  arm  and  hammer  that  struck 
it  went  in  among  the  atoms  of  iron>  and  they  moved  and 
pulled  a  little  way  from  each  other.  What  we  call  Heat  was 
really  their  motion ;  and  so — " 

"Stuff!"  interrupted  the  traveler.  "When  a  man  comes 
down  to  atoms,  he  must  be  hard  up  for  proofs." 

"  Comes  down  to  atoms !"  exclaimed  my  Lord  High  Fid- 
dlestick, opening  a  window.  Outside,  the  sill  was  covered 
with  fresh-fallen  snow,  which  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick 
scraped  up  in  his  hands.  "Can  any  thing  be  softer  than 
this  snow?"  he  asked.  "Well,  the  pull  and  strain  that 
brought  the  water-atoms  together  to  make  such  snow  as  I 
hold  here,  would  pitch  a  ton  of  stone  over  a  precipice  two 
thousand  feet  deep.  Come  down  to  atoms,  indeed  !  Pray, 
let  me  show  you  a  few  of  the  things  that  atoms  can  do." 

"My  lord,"  interrupted  the  king,  in  a  hurry,  "I  observe 
that  dinner  is  ready,  and  the  beefsteak  on  the  table.     If  the 


240  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

steak  gets  cold,  according  to  your  philosophy,  it  will  grow 
smaller,  and  thenf  perhaps,  there  will  not  be  enough  to  go 
round.  Let  us  go  to  dinner,  and  hear  what  the  atoms  can 
do  another  time,  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick." 


BIRDS  AND  THEIR  WAYS.—  From  the  Little  Corporal. 

About  the  second  week  of  March,  here  in  Northern  Illi- 
nois, I  hear  somebody  singing  up  in  the  air, "  Ka-wet !  ka- 
wet !"  His  back  is  as  blue  as  the  violets,  and  his  breast  looks 
as  red  and  warm  as  a  little  red  cloud  at  sunrise. 

The  trees  are  bare,  the  grass  is  dry,  and  Bluebird's  voice 
is  a  little  sad  at  first,  but  by  the  middle  of  April  he  is  all 
over  it,  for  he  takes  him  a  mate ;  then  he  is  very  busy  try- 
ing to  find  a  place  for  the  nest  that  is  to  hold  the  wee  ones. 

One  day  I  saw  a  pair  of  bluebirds  sitting  on  the  stakes  of 
a  rail  fence.  Bluebird  flew  down  to  a  hole  in  one  of  the 
rails ;  he  went  in,  examined  its  sides  with  his  black  bill, 
turned  around  in  it,  then,  flying  up  to  the  top  of  a  stake, 
warbled  "  Ka-wet !  que-we-o-it !" — my  dear,  come  look  at 
it.  Mrs.  Bluebird  answered  u  Ka-wet!" — yes,  dear.  They 
examined  and  consulted  a  long  time,  but  it  would  not  do  to 
put  their  nest  there ;  the  room  wras  too  small,  and  the  roof 
very  poor.  I  saw  them  there  no  more.  The  mates  some- 
times choose  a  hole  in  a  tree,  where  a  busy  woodpecker  once 
made  his  nest.  They  carry  in  grass,  wrool,  and  feathers,  and 
arrange  a  soft,  warm  nest.  The  female  lays,  from  four  to  six 
pale  blue  eggs.  Two  broods  a  year  are  raised.  Bluebirds 
live  upon  worms,  beetles,  and  other  insects  that  would  de- 
stroy our  fruit  and  gardens. 

Generally,  within  two  weeks  from  the  time  I  first  hear  the 
plaintive  salutation  of  the  bluebird,  a  chorus  of  spring  voices 
are  in  my  ear.  The  red-winged  blackbirds  are  chatting  in 
the  tree-tops;  the  crow  blackbird  throws  in  an  occasional 
note  of  reproof;  the  meadow-lark  sings  "  E-chee-a-chirp-pa" 
in  the  richest  of  voices ;  the  snowbird  trills  in  the  hazel 
bush ;  the  wild  ducks  are  quacking  on  the  streams ;  the  soft 
piping  of  the  nuthatch  sounds  from  the  woods ;  the  belted 
kingfisher  darts  chattering  by,  and  the  plover  flies  over,  cry- 
ing sharply  "  Kill-deer !  kill-deer !" 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        241 

But  whose  voice  is  this  I  hear  a  few  days  before  the  com- 
ing of  April?  He  calls  from  the  trees,  just  at  evening, 
"  Quit !  quit!  quit !"  The  night  is  cold  and  frosty,  but  with 
the  early  morning  light  a  rich  bugle-voice  breaks  out  in 
"  Ka-i-a  ka-e-ore  quit !  cho-wo  que-we  que-wit !  tka-a-ru  ka- 
we-wa  ka-we-wa  tkeep !"  Robin  knows  how  to  sing.  I  once 
heard  four  singing  in  one  bur-oak  at  a  time. 

Look  at  Robin  when  he  is  on  the  ground.  He  gives  a 
hop  or  two,  then  runs  a  few  feet  straight  forward  in  a  very 
careless  way.  He  stops,  turning  one  eye  up  as  if  he  needed 
to  keep  watch  of  the  weather,  while  with  the  other  he  looks 
sharply  at  the  ground.  Now  he  finds  a  bug  or  grub,  now 
a  May-beetle,  and  a  little  farther  on  he  pulls  up  a  cut-worm. 
He  is  very  useful,  for  he  eats  up  some  of  the  worst  enemies 
of  the  fruit  and  grain. 

The  first  day  of  last  May,  as  I  passed  a  thorn-tree,  a  bright 
eye  peered  from  behind  a  branch.  A  moment  after,  two 
brown  wings  were  spread,  and  away  went  Mrs.  Robin. 
Robin  himself  sat  near  by,  on  a  crab-apple-tree,  jerking  his 
tail,  and  eying  me  anxiously.  Here  was  a  nest  with  four 
blue  eggs. 

Soon  the  bluejays  became  too  inquisitive,  and  I  often  saw 
Robin  dart  out  bravely  and  drive  them  off.  After  a  few 
days  I  found  the  nest  deserted,  one  egg  gone,  and  the  rest 
cold.     I  am  afraid  Bluejay  took  that  egg. 

But  the  robins  were  not  discouraged.  They  built  another 
nest  on  the  branch  of  a  bur-oak  a  short  distance  from  the 
first  nest.  They  left  this  one  also,  and  without  using  it 
at  all. 

A  third  nest  was  made  in  a  black  oak,  whose  boughs 
touch  our  house.  Mrs.  Robin  constructed  it  chiefly  of  dried 
grass,  and  plastered  the  inside  with  mud.  When  the  mud 
was  dry,  she  lined  it  smoothly  with  fine  soft  grass,  and  the 
nest  was  ready  for  use. 

The  eggs  were  laid,  and  for  about  two  weeks  patient  Mrs. 
Robin  kept  them  warm  under  her  red  breast.  The  sweet 
June  days  came,  and  the  wild  roses  showed  their  bright 
buds.  Robin,  meantime,  sang  his  richest  songs  on  the 
boughs  near  by.     He  became  almost  as  tame  as  a  chicken, 

L 


242  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

hopping  around  us  when  we  were  out  of  doors,  and  singing, 
with  his  bill  just  apart,  quaint  little  strains  that  could  hard- 
ly be  heard.  The  robin  does  not  open  his  bill  so  widely  as 
some  little  birds,  if  he  sings  ever  so  loud  and  clear. 

One  day  I  saw  Mrs.  Robin  standing  on  the  side  of  the 
nest.  She  peered  into  it,  and  put  her  bill  down  one,  two, 
three  times.  Just  then  her  mate  alighted  near  by,  with  his 
beak  full  of  worms  and  soft  insects.  The  young  birds  were 
out  of  the  shells,  and  the  mother  was  feeding  them.  What 
funny  babies  they  were,  with  only  a  small  number  of  curious 
feathers,  looking  just  like  the  little  plumes  you  have  seen 
on  some  seeds  floating  about  in  the  air.  At  the  least  sound 
their  hungry  bills  would  fly  open,  as  if  they  expected  that 
it  was  going  to  rain  worms.  Robin  did  not  get  much  time 
to  sing  then,  for  they  kept  him  as  busy  as  a  bee.  In  less 
than  two  weeks  they  were  pretty  well  feathered  out,  and 
their  tails  an  inch  and  a  half  long. 

Then  there  was  a  time  of  wild  excitement  in  the  oak.  The 
old  birds  called  loudly,  and  the  young  ones  answered  "  Pe- 
ip?" — I  fly!  The  little  robins  found  out  then  what  their 
wings  were  made  for.  For  a  day  or  two  they  staid  quietly 
in  the  trees,  and  their  parents  carried  them  food.  Then  they 
hopped  on  the  ground  after  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin. 

About  this  time  Mrs.  Robin  left  her  husband  to  provide 
for  all  three  youngsters,  and  went  oif  somewhere.  Some- 
times they  tried  to  feed  themselves.  One  would  think  he 
saw  a  worm  on  the  ground,  and,  putting  down  his  head, 
would  nearly  fall  over  trying  to  get  it.  I  saw  them  pick  up 
little  sticks,  and  drop  them.  In.  less  than  three  weeks  from 
the  time  they  left  the  nest  they  looked  as  large  as  Robin, 
and  he  thought  them  big  enough  to  get  their  own  living. 
They  were  very  handsome,  but  they  did  not  look  just  like 
the  old  robins.  Their  backs  had  a  great  many  little  black 
and  white  streaks,  and  the  red  of  their  breasts  was  full  of 
black  spots. 

Robin  still  gathered  worms,  but  he  would  not  give  them 
to  these  young  ones.  I  followed  him,  and  found  Mrs.  Robin, 
with  another  brood  of  little  birds,  in  the  very  nest  that  was 
built  on  the  branch  of  the  bur-oak  after  the  first  one  was 
broken  up. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         243 

HANDY  ANDY. 

Samuel  Lover. 

Scene  First.     The  Dining-room. 

The  first  time  Andy  was  admitted  into  the  mysteries  of 
the  dining-room,  great  was  his  wonder.  The  butler  took 
him  in  to  give  him  some  previous  instructions,  and  Andy 
was  so  lost  in  admiration  at  the  sight  of  the  assembled  glass 
and  plate  that  he  stood  with  his  mouth  and  eyes  wide  open, 
and  scarcely  heard  a  word  that  was  said  to  him.  After  the 
head  man  had  been  dinning  his  instructions  into  him  for 
some  time,  he  said  he  might  go  until  his  attendance  was  re- 
quired. But  Andy  moved  not ;  he  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed 
by  a  sort  of  fascination  on  some  object,  that  seemed  to  rivet 
them  with  the  same  unaccountable  influence  which  the  rat- 
tlesnake exercises  over  its  victim. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at  ?"  said  the  butler. 

"Them  things,  sir,"  said  Andy,  pointing  to  some  silver 
forks. 

"  Is  it  the  forks  ?"  said  the  butler. 

"  Oh  no,  sir.  I  know  what  forks  is  very  well ;  but  I  have 
never  seen  them  things  afore." 

"  What  things  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  These  things,  sir,"  said  Andy,  taking  up  one  of  the  sil- 
ver forks,  and  turning  it  round  and  round  in  his  hand  in  ut- 
ter astonishment,  while  the  butler  grinned  at  his  ignorance, 
and  enjoyed  his  own  superior  knowledge. 

"  Well !"  said  Andy,  after  a  long  pause, "  evil  be  from  me 
if  ever  I  seen  a  silver  spoon  split  that  way  before." 

The  butler  laughed  a  horse-laugh,  and  made  a  standing 
joke  of  Andy's  split  spoon;  but  time  and  experience  made 
Andy  less  impressed  with  wonder  at  the  show  of  plate  and 
glass,  and  the  split  spoons  became  familiar  as  "household 
words"  to  him ;  yet  still  there  were  things  in  the  duties  of 
table  attendance  beyond  Andy's  comprehension :  he  used 
to  hand  cold  plates  for  fish,  and  hot  plates  for  jelly,  etc.  But 
"one  day,"  as  Zanga  says,  "one  day"  he  was  thrown  off  his 
centre  in  a  remarkable  degree  by  a  bottle  of  soda-water. 

It  was  when  that  combustible  was  first  introduced  into 


244  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Ireland  as  a  dinner  beverage  that  the  occurrence  took  place, 
and  Andy  had  the  luck  to  be  the  person  to  whom  a  gentle- 
man applied  for  some  soda-water. 

"Sir?"  said  Andy. 

"  Soda  -  water,"  said  the  guest,  in  that  subdued  tone  in 
which  people  are  apt  to  make  known  their  wants  at  a  din- 
ner-table. 

Andy  went  to  the  butler.  "  Mr.  Morgan,  there's  a  gintle- 
man — " 

"  Let  me  alone,  will  you  ?"  said  Mr.  Morgan. 

Andy  manoeuvred  round  him  a  little  longer,  and  again 
essayed  to  be  heard. 

"Mr.  Morgan!" 

"  Don't  you  see  I'm  as  busy  as  I  can  be  ?  Can't  you  do 
it  yourself?" 

"  I  dunno  what  he  wants." 

"  Well,  go  and  ax  him,"  said  Mr.  Morgan. 

Andy  went  off  as  he  was  bidden,  and  came  behind  the 
thirsty  gentleman's  chair  with  "I  beg  your  pardon, sir." 

"  Well !"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  what's  that  you  axed  me  for?" 

"  Soda-water." 

"What,  sir?" 

"  Soda-water ;  but  perhaps  you  have  not  any." 

"  Oh,  there's  plenty  in  the  house,  sir.  Would  you  like  it 
hot,  sir?" 

The  gentleman  laughed,  and,  supposing  the  new  fashion 
was  not  understood  in  the  present  company,  said, "  Never 
mind." 

But  Andy  was  too  anxious  to  please  to  be  so  satisfied,  and 
again  applied  to  Mr.  Morgan. 

"Sir," said  he. 

"Bad  luck  to  you !  can't  you  let  me  alone ?" 

"  There's  a  gintleman  wants  some  soap  and  wather." 

"Somewhat?" 

"  Soap  and  wather,  sir." 

"  Bother  take  you  !  soda-wather,  you  mane.  You'll  get  it 
under  the  sideboard." 

"  Is  it  in  the  can,  sir  ?" 


SELECTIONS   FOR   THE   YOUNG   FOLKS.  245 

"The  curse  of  Crum'li  on  you  !  in  the  bottles." 

"Is  this  it,  sir?"  said  Andy,  producing  a  bottle  of  ale. 

"  No,  bad  'cess  to  you  !  the  little  bottles." 

"Is  it  the  little  bottles  with  no  bottoms, sir?" 

"  I  wish  you  were  in  the  bottom  of  the  say  !"  said  Mr.  Mor- 
gan, who  was  fuming  and  puffing,  and  rubbing  down  his  face 
with  a  napkin,  as  he  was  hurrying  to  all  quarters  of  the  room, 
or,  as  Andy  said,  in  praising  his  activity,  that  he  was  u  like 
bad  luck,  every  where." 

"  There  they  are,"  said  Morgan  at  last. 

"Oh!  them  bottles  that  won't  stand,"  said  Andy;  "sure 
them's  what  I  said,  with  no  bottoms  to  them.  How'll  I 
open  it  ?  it's  tied  down." 

"  Cut  the  cord,  you  booby !" 

Andy  did  as  he  was  desired ;  and  he  happened  at  the 
same  time  to  hold  the  bottle  of  soda-water  on  a  level  with 
'  the  candles  that  shed  light  over  the  festive  board  from  a 
large  silver  branch,  and  the  moment  he  made  the  incision, 
bang  went  the  bottle  of  soda,  knocking  out  two  of  the  lights 
with  the  projected  cork,  which,  performing  its  parabola  the 
length  of  the  room,  struck  the  squire  himself  in  the  eye  at 
the  end  of  the  table,  while  the  hostess  at  the  head  had  a  cold 
bath  down  her  back.  Andy,  when  he  saw  the  soda-water 
jumping  out  of  the  bottle,  held  it  from  him  at  arm's  length, 
every  fizz  it  made  exclaiming  u  Ow  !  ow  !  ow  !"  and  at  last, 
when  the  bottle  was  empty,  he  roared  out,  "  Oh  Lord !  it's 
all  gone." 

Great  was  the  commotion ;  few  could  resist  laughter  ex- 
cept the  ladies,  who  all  looked  at  their  gowns,  not  liking  the 
mixture  of  satin  and  soda-water.  The  extinguished  candles 
were  relighted,  the  squire  got  his  eye  open  again,  and  the 
next  time  he  perceived  the  butler  sufficiently  near  to  speak 
to  him,  he  said,  in  a  low  and  hurried  tone  of  deep  anger, 
while  he  knit  his  brow,  "Send  that  fellow  out  of  the  room;" 
but  within  the  same  minute  resumed  the  former  smile,  that 
beamed  on  all  around  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 


246  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

Scene  Second.     The  Post-office. 

"  Ride  into  town  and  see  if  there's  a  letter  for  me,"  said 
the  squire  one  day  to  our  hero. 

"Yis,  sir." 

"  You  know  where  to  go  ?" 

"To  the  town,  sir." 

"  But  do  you  know  where  to  go  in  the  town  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"And  why  don't  you  ask, you  stupid  thief?" 

"  Sure,  I'd  find  out,  sir." 

"Didn't  I  often  tell  you  what  you're  to  do  when  you 
don't  know  ?" 

"Yis,sir." 

"  And  why  don't  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  like  to  be  throublesome,  sir." 

"  Confound  you  !"  said  the  squire ;  though  he  could  not 
help  laughing  at  Andy's  excuse  for  remaining  in  ignorance, 

"  Well,"  continued  he, "  go  to  the  post-office.  You  know 
the  post-office,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yis,  sir ;  where  they  sell  gunpowdher." 

"You're  right  for  once,"  said  the  squire;  for  his  majesty's  1 
post-master  was  the  person  who  had  the  privilege  of  dealing 
in  the  aforesaid  combustible.     "  Go,  their,  to  the  post-office, 
and  ask  for  a  letter  for  me.     Remember,  not  gunpowder,  but 
a  letter." 

"  Yis,  sir,"  said  Andy,  who  got  astride  of  his  hack,  and 
trotted  away  to  the  post-office.  On  arriving  at  the  shop  of 
the  post-master  (for  that  person  carried  on  a  brisk  trade  in 
groceries,  gimlets,  broadcloth,  and  linen-drapery),  Andy  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  counter  and  said, 

"  I  want  a  letther,  sir,  if  you  plaze." 

"  Who  do  you  want  it  for  ?"  sftid  the  post-master,  in  a  tone 
which  Andy  considered  an  aggression  upon  the  sacredness 
of  private  life ;  so  Andy  thought  the  coolest  contempt  he 
could  throw  upon  the  prying  impertinence  of  the  post-mas- 
ter was  to  repeat  his  question. 

"I  want  a  letther,  sir,  if  you  plaze." 

"And  who  do  you  want  it  for?"  repeated  the  post-master. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         24  7 

"What's  that  to  you?"  said  Andy. 

The  post-master  laughed  at  his  simplicity,  and  told  him  he 
could  not  tell  what  letter  to  give  him  unless  he  told  him  the 
direction. 

"  The  directions  I  got  was  to  get  a  letther  here — that's  the 
directions." 

"Who  gave  you  those  directions?" 

"  The  masther." 

"And  who's  your  master?" 

"What  consarn  is  that  o'  yours  ?" 

"  Why,  you  stupid  rascal,  if  you  don't  tell  me  his  name, 
how  can  I  give  you  a  letter  ?" 

"  You  could  give  it  if  you  liked  ;  but  you're  fond  of  axin' 
impident  questions,  bekase  you  think  I'm  simple." 

"  Go  along  out  o'  this  !  Your  master  must  be  as  great  a 
goose  as  yourself,  to  send  such  a  messenger." 

"  Bad  luck  to  your  impidence  !  is  it  Squire  Egan  you  dar 
to  say  goose  to  ?" 

"  Oh,  Squire  Egan's  your  master,  then  ?" 

"  Yis  ;  have  you  any  thing  to  say  agin  it  ?" 

"  Only  that  I  never  saw  you  before." 

"Faith,  then  you'll  never  see  me  agin,  if  I  have  my  own 
consint." 

"  I  won't  give  you  any  letter  for  the  squire,  unless  I  know 
you're  his  servant.  Is  there  any  one  in  the  town  knows 
you?" 

"  Plenty,"  said  Andy ;  "  it's  not  every  one  is  as  ignorant  as 
you." 

Just  at  this  moment  a  person  to  whom  Andy  was  known 
entered  the  house,  who  vouched  to  the  post-master  that  he 
might  give  Andy  the  squire's  letter.  "Have  you  one  for 
me"?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  post-master,  producing  one;  "four- 
pence." 

The  gentleman  paid  the  fourpence  postage,  and  left  the 
shop  with  his  letter. 

"Here's  a  letter  for  the  squire,"  said  the  post-master; 
*  you've  to  pay  me  elevenpence  postage." 

"  What  'ud  I  pay  elevenpence  for  ?" 


248  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

"For  postage." 

"  Saint  Pathrick !  Didn't  I  see  you  give  Mr.  Durfy  a  let- 
ther  for  fourpence  this  minnit,  and  a  bigger  letther  than 
this?  and  now  you  want  me  to  pay  elevenpence  for  this 
scrap  of  a  thing !     Do  you  think  I'm  a  fool  ?" 

"  No,  but  I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  the  post-master. 

"Well,  you're  welkim  to  be  sure,  sure;  but  don't  be  delay- 
in'  me  now  ;  here's  fourpence  for  you,  and  gi'  me  the  letther." 

"  Go  along,  you  stupid  thief!"  said  the  post-master,  taking 
up  the  letter,  and  going  to  serve  a  customer  with  a  mouse- 
trap. 

While  this  person  and  many  others  were  served,  Andy 
lounged  up  and  down  the  shop,  every  now  and  then  putting 
in  his  head  in  the  middle  of  the  customers,  and  saying, "  Will 
you  gi'  me  the  letther  ?" 

The  squire  in  the  mean  time  was  getting  impatient  for  his 
return,  and,  when  Andy  made  his  appearance,  asked  if  there 
was  a  letter  for  him. 

"  There  is,  sir,"  said  Andy. 

"  Then  give  it  to  me." 

"  I  haven't  it,  sir." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  He  wouldn't  give  it  to  me,  sir." 

"  Who  wouldn't  give  it  to  you  ?" 

"  The  owld  chate  beyant  in  the  town — wanting  to  charge 
double  for  it." 

"  Maybe  it's  a  double  letter.  Why  didn't  you  pay  what 
he  asked,  sir?" 

"  Arrah,  sir,  why  would  I  let  you  be  chated  ?  It's  not  a 
double  letther  at  all ;  not  above  half  the  size  o'  one  Mr.  Dur- 
fy got  before  my  face  for  fourpence." 

"You'll  provoke  me  to  break  your  neck  some  day,  you 
vagabond.  Ride  back  for  your  life,  you  omadhound,  and 
pay  whatever  he  asks,  and  get  me  the  letter." 

"  Why,  sir,  I  tell  you  he  was  sellin'  them  before  my  face 
for  fourpence  a  piece." 

"  Go  back,  you  scoundrel,  or  I'll  horsewhip  you ;  and  if 
you're  longer  than  an  hour  I'll  have  you  ducked  in  the  horse- 
pond." 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        249 

Andy  vanished,  and  made  a  second  visit  to  the  post-office. 
When  he  arrived  two  other  persons  were  getting  letters,  and 
the  post-master  was  selecting  the  epistles  for  each  from  a 
large  parcel  that  lay  before  him  on  the  counter ;  at  the  same 
time  many  shop-customers  were  waiting  to  be  served. 

"  I'm  come  for  that  letther,"  said  Andy. 

"  I'll  attend  to  you  by-and-by." 

u  The  masther's  in  a  hurry." 

"  Let  him  wait  till  his  hurry's  over." 

"He'll  murther  me  if  I'm  not  back  soon. 

u  I'm  glad  to  hear  it." 

While  the  post-master  went  on  with  such  provoking  an- 
swers to  these  appeals  for  dispatch,  Andy's  eye  caught  the 
heap  of  letters  which  lay  on  the  counter ;  so,  while  certain 
weighing  of  soap  and  tobacco  was  going  forward,  he  con- 
trived to  become  possessed  of  two  letters  from  the  heap ; 
having  effected  that,  he  waited  patiently  enough  till  it  was 
the  great  man's  pleasure  to  give  him  the  missive  directed  to 
his  master. 

Then  did  Andy  bestride  his  hack,  and,  in  triumph  at  his 
trick  on  the  post-master,  rattle  along  the  road  homeward  as 
fast  as  the  beast  could  carry  him. 

He  came  into  the  squire's  presence,  his  face  beaming  with 
delight,  and  an  air  of  self-satisfied  superiority  in  his  manner 
quite  unaccountable  to  his  master  until  he  pulled  forth  his 
hand,  which  had  been  grubbing  up  his  prizes  from  the  bot- 
tom of  his  pocket,  and,  holding  three  letters  over  his  head, 
while  he  said, "  Look  at  that !"  he  next  slapped  them  down 
under  his  broad  fist  on  the  table  before  the  squire,  saying, 

"  Well,  if  he  did  make  me  pay  elevenpence,  by  gor,  I 
brought  your  honor  the  worth  o'  your  money,  any  how !" 


SCHOOL. — From  Merry  s  Museum. 

BEFORE   SCHOOL. 

"  Quarter  of  nine  !     Boys  and  girls,  do  you  hear  ?" 
"  One  more  buckwheat,  then ;  be  quick,  mother  dear." 
"  Where  is  my  luncheon-box  ?"     "  Under  the  shelf, 
Just  in  the  place  where  you  left  it  yourself." 

L2 


250  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

"  I  can't  say  my  table  !"     "  Oh,  find  me  my  cap  !" 

"  One  kiss  for  mamma,  and  sweet  sis  in  her  lap." 

"  Be  good,  dear."  "I'll  try."  "  Nine  times  nine's  eighty-one." 

"  Take  your  mittens  !"    "All  right."    "  Hurry  up,  Bill ;  let's 

run." 
With  a  slam  of  the  door,  they  are  off,  girls  and  boys, 
And  the  mother  draws  breath  in  the  lull  of  the  noise. 

AFTEll   SCHOOL. 

"  Don't  wake  up  the  baby  !     Come  gently,  my  dear." 
"  Oh,  mother !  I've  torn  my  new  dress ;  just  look  here ! 
I'm  sorry ;  I  only  was  climbing  the  wall." 
"  Oh,  mother !  my  map  was  the  nicest  of  all !" 
"And  Nelly,  in  spelling,  went  up  to  the  head !" 
"  Oh,  say  !  can  I  go  on  the  hill  with  my  sled  ?" 
"  I've  got  such  a  toothache  !"     "  The  teacher's  unfair !" 
"  Is  dinner  most  ready  ?    I'm  just  like  a  bear !" 

Be  patient,  worn  mother,  they're  growing  up  fast; 
These  nursery  whirlwinds,  not  long  do  they  last ; 
A  still,  lonely  house  would  be  far  worse  than  noise — 
Rejoice  and  be  glad  in  your  brave  girls  and  boys. 


SECOND   LECTURE   ON   HEAT. 

BY  MY  LORD  HIGH  FIDDLESTICK. 

The  king,  the  court,  and  the  little  traveler  were  assembled 
to  hear  what  atoms  can  do.  The  king  looked  very  serious : 
he  was  thinking  that  atoms  were  a  bore,  but  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  encourage  them.  The  courtiers  looked  very  serious 
too:  they  were  thinking,  each  one,  that,  if  he  was  king,  he 
would  have  any  body  hung  that  dared  to  talk  about  atoms. 
A  table  stood  before  the  Lord  High  Fiddlestick ;  on  the  ta- 
ble stood  a  copper  basin  filled  writh  pounded  ice  and  salt, 
and  two  strong  bottles  of  iron,  each  closed  by  a  screw  firmly 
fixed  in  the  neck. 

"  Your  majesty,"  said  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick,  taking 
up  one  of  them,  "  these  iron  bottles  are  half  an  inch  thick, 
and,  as  you  see,  they  are  firmly  fastened  at  the  top.  They 
are  filled  writh  water,  and  I  am  going  to  place  them  in  this 


SELECTIONS  FOE  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         251 

pounded  ice  and  salt,  and  freeze  the  water,  to  show  you  what 
atoms  can  do.  But  I  should  like  first  to  explain,  as  well  as 
I  can,  how  water  freezes.  The  water  is  made  up  of  atoms, 
or  tiny  particles  of  vapor,  which  are  held  together,  like  the 
atoms  of  iron,  by  cohesion.  But  water  is  always  much 
warmer  than  iron,  and,  you  remember,  we  found  out  that 
heat  is  motion ;  so,  when  I  say  that,  I  mean  that  the  atoms 
of  water  have  much  more  motion  than  the  atoms  of  iron. 
\The  iron  nas  so  little  heat-motion  that  cohesion  can  hold  its 
atoms  tight  and  firm,  and  we  call  the  iron  hard  and  solid. 
The  water-atoms  have  so  much  heat-motion  that  cohesion 
can  hardly  hold  them  in  its  grip,  and  the  atoms  roll  over 
each  other  so  loosely  that  we  call  water  a  liquid.  I  place 
these  bottles  in  this  ice  and  salt.  The  water- atoms  are 
chilled,  and  begin  to  huddle  together.  The  motion  of  heat 
will  keep  the  atoms  apart  as  long  as  it  can,  but  as  the  atoms 
grow  colder — that  is,  as  they  lose  their  heat — they  lose  their 
motion,  and  press  closer  together,  till  you  may  say  the  heat- 
motion  is  gone  entirely ;  the  dancing  water-atoms  cling  to- 
gether hard  and  stiff,  and  the  water  now  takes  up  less  room 
in  the  bottles  than  it  did  at  first.  Almost  every  thing,  when 
freezing,  becomes  smaller,  and  stays  smaller  till  it  is  warmed 
again ;  but  this  is  not  the  case  with  water,  luckily  for  the 
fishes — for,  if  the  ice  remained  smaller,  it  would  sink  to  the 
bottom,  warm  water  would  rise,  be  frozen,  and  sink  in  its 
turn,  till  the  lake  or  river  was  frozen  solid.  But '  No,'  say 
the  water-atoms, '  we  know  better ;  we  draw  together,  close 
and  hard,  till  we  freeze,  and  then,  crack !  we  stretch  out  on 
every  side — we  grow  larger  and  lighter,  and  make  a  warm 
roof  for  every  thing  below.'  Now,  your  majesty,  while  I 
have  been  talking,  the  ice-atoms  in  the  bottle  have  been 
stretching  and  pressing  out.  'We  will  have  more  room,' 
say  they.  'You  can't  have  it,'  answer  the  rigid  iron-atoms, 
piled  on  each  other  half  an  inch  thick.  Which  is  the  stron- 
gest ?  There  go  the  bottles,  broken  from  top  to  bottom ! 
And  now,  Mr.  Traveler,  what  do  you  think  of  the  soft  water- 
atoms,  that  can  break  iron  ?" 

The  traveler  said  nothing.     "Very  curious,"  observed  his 
majesty. 


252  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

"  Your  royal  highness,"  cried  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick, 
much  delighted, "  do  you  remember  how  just  two  weeks  ago 
the  Pink  Page  forgot  to  turn  off  the  water  ?  Just  what  has 
happened  now  in  these  bottles  happened  then  in  the  pipes : 
the  water  froze,  the  ice-atoms  tried  to  stretch  themselves, 
the  pipes  would  not  stretch,  and  were  broken  as  the  bottles 
are.  When  a  thaw  came,  it  was  nothing  but  dribble  and 
leak  all  over  the  palace;  and  your  majesty  will  recollect 
that  the  queen's  pink  satin  gown,  which  the  Dame  of  the 
Slippers  had  carelessly  left  in  the  powder  closet,  was  quite 
ruined." 

"  The  Pink  Page  deserves  to  be  hung,  and  you  too,  since 
you  knew  all  about  it,"  growled  the  king. 

"Your  majesty,  I  should  like  to  show  you  some  more 
atom-work,"  said  the  Lord  High  Fiddlestick,  in  a  flurry. 

"  If  flooding  the  palace  is  atom-work,  I  should  say  I  had 
seen  enough,"  grumbled  the  king ;  but  the  Lord  High  Fid- 
dlestick pretended  not  to  hear,  and  took  out  from  a  refriger- 
ator a  large  block  of  ice. 

"Your  majesty,"  he  said,  "here,  as  you  see,  is  a  block  of 
ice.  In  front  of  it  I  place  a  glass,  and  before  the  glass  a 
white  screen.  Here  I  have  what  is  called  an  electric  lamp. 
I  am  going  to  send  a  warm  beam  from  this  lamp  through 
the  ice,  as  I  have  not  a  sunbeam  handy.  If  any  thing  hap- 
pens in  the  ice,  it  will  be  reflected  in  this  glass ;  but  this  is 
a  peculiar  glass:  whatever  is  reflected  in  it  will  be  made 
larger,  and  its  image  cast  on  the  screen,  so  that  you  can  all 
see  it." 

"  Likely  story  !"  growled  the  traveler ;  "  as  if  any  thing 
worth  seeing  could  happen  in  that  piece  of  ice." 

"  We  know,"  continued  the  Lord  High  Fiddlestick,  "  that 
the  ice-atoms  came  close  together,  but  we  do  not  know 
whether  they  scrambled  together,  and  are  now  lying  head 
and  shoulders,  or  came  in  order;  but  we  can  take  down  the 
block  of  ice,  and  find  of  what  it  is  built,  as  we  could  take 
down  a  house.  I  send  a  beam  through  the  ice — the  light 
passes  through.  But  there  was  Heat  in  the  beam ;  he  has 
found  work  to  do,  and  he  stays  among  the  ice-atoms.  He 
is  going  from  atom  to  atom,  and  urging  them  apart ;  they 


SELECTIONS  FOE  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        253 

are  all  in  motion,  and  the  solid  block  is  coming  down  in 
water — melting,  as  you  would  say.  We  are  taking  down 
the  ice  now ;  look  on  the  screen." 

The  king  and  the  courtiers  looked.  "Oh  la!"  scream- 
ed every  body.  The  sour  little  traveler  had  determined 
not  to  look ;  but  he  was  so  curious  to  know  why  every  body 
cried  "  oh  la  !"  that  he  could  not  help  turning  his  head,  and 
seeing  the  stars  and  sprays  of  the  ice-atoms. 

"Very  fine,"  remarked  the  king;  "but  handsome  is  that 
handsome  does  !  I  should  think  better  of  these  stars  and 
sprays  if  they  had  not  flooded  my  palace." 

My  Lord  High  Fiddlestick  knew  better  than  to  remind 
the  king  that,  if  the  Pink  Page  had  been  as  orderly  as  the 
ice -atoms,  the  palace  would  not  have  been  flooded.  In- 
stead, ne  brought  out  a  little  furnace  filled  with  live  coals, 
on  which  stood  a  tea-kettle  filled  with  boiling-  water. 

"  Your  majesty  has  seen,"  he  said, "  that  water-atoms  can 
break  iron,  and  are,  i&  fact, c  giants  in  disguise.'  We  have 
seen,  also,  that  they  are  orderly  giants,  and,  at  the  word  of 
command,  fall  into  stars  and  sprays,  as  the  soldiers  of  your 
majesty's  regiments  fall  into  line,  j^ow  we  have  the  water- 
atoms  and  our  old  friend  Heat  here  in  this  furnace.  He  is 
at  his  usual  work,  fighting  with  Cohesion,  and  pushing  the 
water-atoms  apart.  Cohesion  presses  down  with  all  its 
weight,  but  Heat  is  quite  strong  enough  to  lift  it.  Then 
the  water-atoms  spring  apart  in  fine  steam  particles.  The 
water  needs  now  much  more  room  than  it  did  in  the  begin- 
ning. The  water-atoms  are  greatly  heated — that  is,  they  are 
in  furious  motion,  and  are  stretching  and  pushing  for  more 
room ;  and  once  more  we  see  here  that  Heat  is  Force.  This 
water,  which  would  yield  to  the  finger  when  cold,  is  now 
strong.  It  whirls,  and  spins,  and  presses  so  hard  that,  if 
there  were  no  spout  through  which  it  could  escape,  and  the 
cover  of  the  kettle  were  fitted  tight,  it  would  burst  the  ket- 
tle. These  atoms,  your  majesty,  will  push  and  drag  tons. 
They  will  saw,  and  grind,  and  punch,  and  plane  stone  and 
iron.     They—" 

"  Yes,"  cut  in  the  traveler ;  "  but  what  could  your  won- 
derful atoms  do  without  the  fire  ?" 


254  MANUAL    OF   HEADING. 

"  Just  so,"  answered  my  Lord  High  Fiddlestick,  with  a 
benevolent  smile.  "Just  what  I  am  coming  at.  "We  can 
hear  the  roaring  of  the  wheels  and  hammers  in  his  majesty's 
iron-mill  near  by.  What  is  making  that  noise  ?  Force,  you 
say.  He  is  twisting,  and  turning,  and  rolling,  and  pound- 
ing iron;  and  every  time  he  turns  a  wheel,  or  brings  down  a 
hammer,  he  dies, '  poor  fellow  !'  So  wre  go  there  to  mourn 
over  him,  and  we  find,  as  I  said  before,  Heat  in  the  wheels, 
and  in  the  instruments  with  which  Force  worked,  and  in  all 
the  places  where  he  has  been.  You  know  that  Force  can 
take  more  shapes  than  one,  and  you  begin  to  suspect  that 
Heat  always  comes  where  Force  disappears — that  Heat  is. 
only  one  of  his  shapes.  You  ask, '  Why,  where  did  Force 
come  from  ?'  ?  From  the  steam,'  says  somebody.  But  what 
is  steam  ?  Why,  water-atoms  pulled  apart  from  each  other, 
and  set  in  violent  motion.  But  why  does  this  water  not 
keep  still,  like  other  wTater  ?  Because  it  is  heated.  Getting 
heat  is  getting  motion. 

"  But  all  this  motion  and  strength  of  the  wheels  comes 
from  the  motion  of  the  water,  and  all  this  strength  and  mo- 
tion of  the  water  comes  from  the  heat  of  the  fire !  Yes. 
"Why,  then,  all  this  force  comes  from  Heat;  and, Mr. Travel- 
er, your  friend  Force  only  gave  you  one  of  his  names.  His 
proper  name  is  Heat,  Motion,  Heat ;  and,  when  he  has  done 
his  work,  he  does  not  die,  but  only  slips  back  into  his  old 
shape  of  Heat  again." 

"  My  lord,"  exclaimed  the  king, "  I  am  delighted  !  I  have 
learned  a  great  deal ;  but  it  is  always  necessary  to  think  of 
what  we  learn,  or  our  ideas  will  be  jumbled  in  our  brains 
like  fruit  in  a  pudding." 

So  the  king  and  the  courtiers  went  away,  stretching  and 
yawning,  to  think  over  what  they  had  learned  from  the  Lord 
High  Fiddlestick. 

LIFE. — From  January  and  June. 

Benjamin  F.  Taylor. 
The  pulses  of  great  Nature  never  beat  more  audibly  and 
musically  than  just  about  "the  leafy  month  of  June;"  life, 
every  where  life,  in  field  and  flood,  in  earth,  and  air,  and  sky. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        255 

Life  in  all  forms ;  life  with  a  sweet  breath  in  it,  life  with  & 
song  in  it,  life  with  a  light  in  it.  Life  tied  up  in  little  bags 
of  most  Quakerish-looking  silk  by  that  sly  spinner,  the  spi- 
der; life  done  up  in  gray  bundles,  and  hung  upon  apple- 
trees  ;  deposited  in  little  brown  paper  cups,  or  packed  away 
in  little  clay  cells  by  gentry  in  yellow  jackets,  and  gentry 
with  delicate  waists,  whose  only  foible  consists  in  their  not 
being  always  and  altogether  like  Job  and  Moses ;  life  hidden 
in  the  hearts  of  ripening  plums  and  reddening  cherries — find 
a  sweeter  cradle  any  where,  if  you  can ;  life  rocked  in  shells, 
put  up  in  mother-of-pearl,  set  in  ivory,  chased  with  gold, 
consigned  to  little  graves  every  where  ;  laid  away  in  "  pat- 
ent burial-cases" — just  where  Fisk  got  the  idea — and  fasten- 
ed to  rails  and  fence-posts;  life  that,by-and-by,  shall  spread 
wings  damp  with  the  imprint  of  this  great  stereotyping  es- 
tablishment of  the  Almighty ;  life  standing  "  on  end"  in  lit- 
tle boats,  and  rising  into  the  air,  taking  to  bugling  as  soon 
as  it  is  born,  and  evincing,  by  the  presentation  of  "  bills"  at 
most  unseasonable  and  unreasonable  hours,  a  decided  talent 
for  ledger  literature ;  life  sheltering  itself  beneath  the  leath- 
ern umbrella  of  the  mushroom,  reveling  in  the  rose's  red 
heart,  drilled  into  the  solid  rock,  domiciled  in  mud  hovels, 
along  rafters  and  beneath  eaves, "  playing  in  the  plighted 
clouds,"  "  laid"  in  a  manger,  peeping  from  holes,  floating  in 
the  air,  swinging  in  the  wind,  skulking  under  the  chips,  bur- 
rowing in  the  earth,  darting  along  rail  fences,  opening  nan- 
keen throats  from  little  baskets  of  twigs,  floating  in  tatters 
of  green  baize  on  the  ponds,  advocating  Solomon  on  birch, 
"  poor  Will"  talking  Greek, "  brekeJceJc  koax,  koax"  and  prac- 
ticing hydropathy,  "Jc>ckugf\  life  in  bags  and  boxes,  bun- 
dles and  blankets ;  in  silks,  satins,  and  shells ;  in  "  tights," 
and  flounces,  and  feathers,  and  flannels;  life  full  dressed 
and  in  dishabille ;  life  knocking  from  the  centre  of  fallen 
logs ;  knocking  from  the  other  side  of  shells  white  and  blue, 
and  mottled  and  dappled  ;  and  June  is 

"  The  delegated  voice  of  God" 

to  bid  them  "  come  in,  come  up,  come  down,  come  out,"  and 
le,  and  do,  and  suffer;  conjugating  and  inflecting  the  great 
active  verb — "  Live." 


256  MANUAL   OP  BEADING. 

Turn  over  the  loam  in  the  fields,  and  you  turn  out  turtle's 
eggs  by  the  score.  Go  "  across  lots"  to  the  neighbors',  and 
you  find  the  pearly  treasures  of  the  whistling  quail  by  the 
dozen.  Tap  a  sand-hill  lightly  with  the  toe  of  your  boot, 
and  you  will  see  the  ladies  to  whom  Solomon  referred  slug- 
gards by  the  myriad.  Shake  a  bush,  and  you  shake  out  a 
bird,  or  a  peep,  or  a  bug,  or  a  bud,  or  something  that's  "all 
alive."  Pluck  a  leaf,  and  you  may  find  in  it  a  crystal  drop 
such  as  one  might  dream  Queen  Mab  would  shed  if  "  in  the 
melting  mood ;"  but  the  sun  shall  "  set"  on  it  a  few  days, 
and  out  will  come  a  thing  all  legs,  or  wings,  or  stings — 
something  to  hum  or  drum — to  fly,  or  creep,  or  crawl ;  some- 
thing to  be  something  and  somebody,  and  count  just  as  many 
in  the  great  census  of  creation  as  he  who  called  the  shades 
of  Ashland  his,  or  she  who  journeyed  of  old  to  see  Solo- 
mon— count  just  as  many,  "in  words  and  figures  following," 
to  wit,  (1)  one. 


THE  GUARD  ON  THE  RHINE.— Transla  ted  from  the  German. 

There  swells  a  cry  as  thunders  crash, 
As  clash  of  swords  and  breakers  dash — 
To  Rhine,  to  Rhine,  to  the  German  Rhine. 
Who  will  protect  thee,  river  mine  ? 
Dear  fatherland,  let  peace  be  thine — 
Brave  hearts  and  true  defend  the  Rhine. 

To  millions  swiftly  came  the  cry, 
And  lightnings  flashed  from  every  eye : 
Our  youth,  so  good  and  brave,  will  stand 
And  guard  thee,  holy  border  land. 
Dear  fatherland,  let  peace  be  thine — 
Brave  hearts  and  true  defend  the  Rhine ! 

And  though  my  heart  should  beat  no  more, 

"No  foreign  foe  will  hold  thy  shore ; 

Rich,  as  in  water  is  thy  flood, 

Is  Germany  in  hero-blood. 

Dear  fatherland,  let  peace  be  thine — 

Brave  hearts  and  true  defend  the  Rhine ! 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         257 

Up  looked  he  to  the  heavens  blue, 
Where  hero-dead  our  actions  view ; 
He  swore,  and  proudly  sought  the  strife, 
"  The  Rhine  is  German  as  my  life." 
Dear  fatherland,  let  peace  be  thine — 
Brave  hearts  and  true  defend  the  Rhine ! 

While  yet  one  drop  of  blood  throbs  warm, 
To  wield  the  sword  remains  one  arm, 
To  hold  the  rifle  yet  one  hand, 
'No  foeman  steps  upon  the  strand. 
Loved  fatherland,  let  peace  be  thine — 
Brave  hearts  and  true  defend  the  Rhine ! 

The  oath  resounds,  the  billows  run, 

Our  colors  flutter  in  the  sun ; 

To  Rhine,  to  Rhine,  to  the  German  Rhine, 

We  will  protect  thee,  river  mine. 

Dear  fatherland,  let  peace  be  thine — 

Brave  hearts  and  true  defend  the  Rhine ! 


A  SINGING  LESSON. 

Jean  Ingelow. 
A  nightingale  made  a  mistake — 

She  sang  a  few  notes  out  of  tune — 
Her  heart  was  ready  to  break, 

And  she  hid  from  the  moon. 
She  wrung  her  claws,  poor  thing, 

But  was  far  too  proud  to  weep ; 
She  tuck'd  her  head  under  her  wing, 

And  pretended  to  be  asleep. 

A  lark,  arm-in-arm  with  a  thrush, 

Came  sauntering  up  to  the  place  *, 
The  nightingale  felt  herself  blush, 

Though  feathers  hid  her  face. 
She  knew  they  had  heard  her  song, 

She  felt  them  snicker  and  sneer ; 
She  thought  that  this  life  was  too  long, 

And  wished  she  could  skip  a  year. 


258  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

"  Oh,  nightingale,"  cooed  a  dove, 

"  Oh,  nightingale,  what's  the  use  ? 
You,  a  bird  of  beauty  and  love, 

Why  behave  like  a  goose  ? 
Don't  skulk  away  from  our  sight 

Like  a  common,  contemptible  fowl ; 
You  bird  of  joy  and  delight, 

Why  behave  like  an  owl  ? 
"  Only  think  of  all  you  have  done — 

Only  think  of  all  you  can  do ; 
A  false  note  is  really  fun 

From  such  a  bird  as  you  ! 
Lift  up  your  proud  little  crest ; 

Open  your  musical  beak ; 
Other  birds  have  to  do  their  best, 

But  you  need  only  speak." 

The  nightingale  shyly  took 

Her  head  from  under  her  wing, 
And,  giving  the  dove  a  look, 

Straightway  began  to  sing. 
There  was  never  a  bird  could  pass— 

The  night  was  divinely  calm — 
And  the  people  stood  on  the  grass 

To  hear  that  wonderful  psalm. 

The  nightingale  did  not  care — 

She  only  sang  to  the  skies ; 
Her  song  ascended  there, 

And  there  she  fixed  her  eyes. 
The  people  who  listened  below 

She  knew  but  little  about — 
And  this  tale  has  a  moral,  I  know, 

If  you'll  try  to  find  it  out. 


THE  SOLDIER'S  REPRIEVE.* 
"  I  thought,  Mr.  Allan,  when  I  gave  my  Bennie  to  his  coun- 
try, that  not  a  father  in  all  this  broad  land  made  so  precious 
a  gift — no,  not  one.     The  dear  boy  only  slept  a  minute — just 
*  Arranged  by  C.  W.  Sanders. 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        259 

one  little  minute,  at  his  post ;  I  know  that  was  all,  for  Ben- 
nie  never  dozed  over  a  duty.  How  prompt  and  reliable  he 
was !  I  know  he  only  fell  asleep  one  little  second — he  was 
so  young,  and  not  strong,  that  boy  of  mine  !  Why,  he  was 
as  tall  as  I,  and  only  eighteen !  and  now  they  shoot  him  be- 
cause he  was  found  asleep  when  doing  sentinel  duty!  Twen- 
ty-four hours, "the  telegram  said — only  twenty-four  hours  ! 
Where  is  Bennie  now  ?" 

"  We  will  hope  with  his  heavenly  Father,"  said  Mr.  Allan, 
soothingly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  let  us  hope ;  God  is  very  merciful !" 
" '  I  should  be  ashamed,  father !'  Bennie  said, c  when  I  am  a 
man,  to  think  I  never  used  this  great  right  arm' — and  he  held 
it  out  so  proudly  before  me — '  for  my  country  when  it  need- 
ed it !     Palsy  it  rather  than  keep  it  at  the  plow  !' 

"'Go,  then  —  go,  my  boy,'  I  said,  'and  God  keep  you!' 
God  has  kept  him,  I  think,  Mr.  Allan !"  and  the  farmer  re- 
peated these  last  words  slowly,  as  if,  in  spite  of  his  reason, 
his  heart  doubted  them. 

"  Like  the  apple  of  his  eye,  Mr.  Owen  ;  doubt  it  not." 
Blossom  sat  near  them,  listening  with  blanched  cheek.  She 
had  not  shed  a  tear.  Her  anxiety  had  been  so  concealed 
that  no  one  noticed  it.  She  had  occupied  herself  mechanic- 
ally in  the  household  cares.  Now  she  answered  a  gentle 
tap  at  the  kitchen  door,  opening  it  to  receive  from  a  neigh- 
bor's hand  a  letter.     u  It  is  from  him,"  was  all  she  said. 

It  was  like  a  message  from  the  dead.  Mr.  Owen  took  the 
letter,  but  could  not  break  the  envelope  on  account  of  his 
trembling  fingers,  and  held  it  toward  Mr.  Allan  with  the 
helplessness  of  a  child. 

The  minister  opened  it  and  read  as  follows  : 
"Dear  Father, — When  this  reaches  you  I  shall  be  in 
eternity.  At  first  it  seemed  awful  to  me ;  but  I  have  thought 
about  it  so  much  now  that  it  has  no  terror.  They  say  they 
will  not  bind  me  nor  blind  me,  but  that  I  may  meet  my 
death  like  a  man.  I  thought,  father,  it  might  have  been  on 
the  field  of  battle,  for  my  country,  and  that,  when  I  fell,  it 
would  be  fighting  gloriously ;  but  to  be  shot  clown  like  a 
dog  for  nearly  betraying  it — to  die  for  neglect  of  duty !    Oh, 


2 GO  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

father,  I  wonder  the  very  thought  does  not  kill  me  !  But  I 
shall  not  disgrace  you.  I  am  going  to  write  you  all  about 
it,  and  when  I  am  gone  you  may  tell  my  comrades.  I  can 
not  now. 

"  You  know  I  promised  Jemmie  Carr's  mother  I  would 
look  after  her  boy,  and  when  he  fell  sick  I  did  all  I  could  for 
him.  He  was  not  strong  when  he  was  ordered  back  into  the 
ranks,  and  the  day  before  that  night  I  carried  all  his  luggage, 
besides  my  own,  on  our  march.  Toward  night  we  went  on 
double-quick,  and  though  the  luggage  began  to  feel  very 
heavy,  every  body  else  was  tired  too  ;  and  as  for  Jemmie,  if 
I  had  not  lent  him  an  arm  now  and  then,  he  would  have  drop- 
ped by  the  way.  I  was  all  tired  when  we  came  into  camp, 
and  then  it, was  Jemmie's  turn  to  be  sentry,  and  I  would  take 
his  place ;  but  I  was  too  tired,  father.  I  could  not  have  kept 
awake  if  a  gun  had  been  pointed  at  my  head ;  but  I  did  not 
know  it  until — well,  until  it  was  too  late." 

"  God  be  thanked !"  interrupted  Mr.  Owen,  reverently.  u  I 
knew  Bennie  was  not  the  boy  to  sleep  carelessly  at  his  post." 

"  They  tell  me  to-day  that  I  have  a  short  reprieve — given 
to  me  by  circumstances — c  time  to  write  to  you,'  our  good 
colonel  says.  Forgive  him,  father,  he  only  does  his  duty ; 
he  would  gladly  save  me  if  he  could ;  and  do  not  lay  my 
death  up  against  Jemmie.  The  poor  boy  is  broken-hearted, 
and  does  nothing  but  beg  and  entreat  them  to  let  him  die 
in  my  stead. 

"I  can't  bear  to  think  of  mother  and  Blossom.  Comfort 
them,  father !  Tell  them  that  I  die  as  a  brave  boy  should, 
and  that,  when  the  war  is  over,  they  will  not  be  ashamed  of 
me,  as  they  must  be  now.  God  help  me ;  it  is  very  hard  to 
bear !  Good-by,  father !  God  seems  near  and  dear  to  me ; 
not  at  all  as  if  He  wished  me  to  perish  forever,  but  as  if  He 
felt  sorry  for  his  poor,  sinful,  broken-hearted  child,  and  would 
take  me  to  be  with  Him  and  my  Savior  in  a  better — better 
life." 

A  deep  sigh  burst  from  Mr.  Owen's  heart.  "Amen !"  he 
said,  solemnly ;  "Amen !" 

"To-night,  in  the  early  twilight, I  shall  see  the  cows  all 
coming  home  from  pasture,  and  precious  little  Blossom  stand' 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.        261 

lng  on  the  back  stoop,  waiting  for  me ;  but  I  shall  never,  nev- 
er come  !     God  bless  you  all !     Forgive  your  poor  Bennie." 

Late  that  night  the  door  of  the  "  back  stoop"  opened  soft- 
ly, and  a  little  figure  glided  out,  and  down  the  footpath  that 
led  to  the  road  by  the  mill.  She  seemed  rather  flying  than 
walking,  turning  her  head  neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left, 
looking  only  now  and  then  to  heaven,  and  folding  her  hands 
as  if  in  prayer.  Two  hours  later,  the  same  young  girl  stood 
at  the  Mill  Depot  watching  the  coming  of  the  night-train ; 
and  the  conductor,  as  he  reached  down  to  lift  her  into  the 
car,  wondered  at  the  tear-stained  face  that  was  upturned  to- 
ward the  dim  lantern  he  held  in  his  hand.  A  few  questions 
and  ready  answers  told  him  all ;  and  no  father  could  have 
cared  more  tenderly  for  his  only  child  than  he  for  our  little 
Blossom.  She  was  on  her  way  to  Washington,  to  ask  Presi- 
dent Lincoln  for  her  brother's  life.  She  had  stolen  away, 
Jeaving  only  a  note  to  tell  her  father  where  and  why  she  had 
gone.  She  had  brought  Bennie's  letter  with  her :  no  good, 
kind  heart,  like  the  President's,  could  refuse  to  be  melted  by 
it.  The  next  morning  they  reached  New  York,  and  the  con- 
ductor hurried  her  on  to  Washington.  Every  minute,  now, 
might  be  the  means  of  saving  her  brother's  life.  And  so,  in 
an  incredibly  short  time,  Blossom  reached  the  capital,  and 
hastened  immediately  to  the  White  House. 

The  President  had  but  just  seated  himself  to  his  morning's 
task  of  overlooking  and  signing  important  papers,  when, 
without  one  word  of  announcement,  the  door  softly  opened, 
and  Blossom,  with  downcast  eyes  and  folded  hands,  stood  be- 
fore him.  "Well,  my  child,"  he  said,  in  his  pleasant,  cheer- 
ful tones,  "  what  do  you  want  so  bright  and  early  in  the 
morning  ?" 

"  Bennie's  life,  please,  sir,"  faltered  Blossom. 

"  Bennie  ?    Who  is  Bennie  ?" 

"  My  brother,  sir.  They  are  going  to  shoot  him  for  sleep- 
ing at  his  post." 

"  Oh  yes,"  and  Mr.  Lincoln  ran  his  eye  over  the  papers  be- 
fore him.  "  I  remember.  It  was  a  fatal  sleep.  You  see, 
child,  it  was  at  a  time  of  special  danger.  Thousands  of  lives 
might  have  been  lost  for  his  culpable  negligence." 


262  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

"  So  my  father  said,"  replied  Blossom,  gravely ;  "but  poor 
Bennie  was  so  tired,  sir,  and  Jemmie  so  weak.  He  did  the 
work  of  two,  sir,  and  it  was  Jemmie's  night,  not  his ;  but 
Jemmie  was  too  tired,  and  Bennie  never  thought  about  him- 
self, that  he  was  tired  too." 

"  What  is  this  you  say,  child  ?  Come  here  ;  I  do  not  un- 
derstand ;"  and  the  kind  man  caught  eagerly,  as  ever,  at 
what  seemed  to  be  a  justification  of  an  offense. 

Blossom  went  to  him;  he  put  his  hand  tenderly  on  her 
shoulder,  and  turned  up  the  pale,  anxious  face  toward  his. 
How  tall  he  seemed,  and  he  was  President  of  the  United 
States  too !  A  dim  thought  of  this  kind  passed  through 
Blossom's  mind,  but  she  told  her  simple  and  straightforward 
story,  and  handed  Mr.  Lincoln  Bennie's  letter  to  read. 

He  read  it  carefully ;  then,  taking  up  his  pen,  wrote  a  few 
hasty  lines,  and  rang  his  bell. 

Blossom  heard  this  order  given :  "  Send  this  dispatch 

at  ONCE." 

The  President  then  turned  to  the  girl  and  said, "  Go  home, 
my  child,  and  tell  that  father  of  yours,  who  could  approve 
his  country's  sentence,  even  when  it  took  the  life  of  a  child 
like  that,  that  Abraham  Lincoln  thinks  the  life  far  too  pre- 
cious to  be  lost.  Go  back;  or — wait  until  to-morrow ;  Ben- 
nie will  need  a  change  after  he  has  so  bravely  faced  death ; 
he  shall  go  with  you." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir !"  said  Blossom ;  and  who  shall  doubt 
that  God  heard  and  registered  the  request  ? 

Two  days  after  this  interview  the  young  soldier  came  to 
the  White  House  with  his  sister.  He  was  called  into  the 
President's  private  room,  and  a  strap  fastened  "  upon  the 
shoulder."  Mr.  Lincoln  then  said :  "  The  soldier  that  could 
carry  a  sick  comrade's  baggage,  and  die  for  the  act  so  un- 
complainingly, deserves  well  of  his  country."  Then  Bennie 
and  Blossom  took  their  way  to  their  Green  Mountain  home. 
A  crowd  gathered  at  the  Mill  Depot  to  welcome  them  back; 
and,  as  Farmer  Owen's  hand  grasped  that  of  his  boy,  tears 
flowed  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  was  heard  to  say  fervently, 
"  The  Lord  be  praised  !" 


SELECTIONS   FOE   THE    YOUNG   FOLKS.  263 

THE  SMACK  IN  SCHOOL. 

J.  W.  Palmeb. 
A  district  school,  not  far  away, 
'Mid  Berkshire  Hills,  one  winter's  day, 
Was  humming  with  its  wonted  noise 
Of  threescore  mingled  girls  and  boys ; 
Some  few  upon  their  tasks  intent, 
But  more  on  furtive  mischief  bent. 
The  while  the  master's  downward  look 
Was  fastened  on  a  copy-book ; 
When  suddenly,  behind  his  back, 
Rose  sharp  and  clear  a  rousing  smack, 
As  'twere  a  battery  of  bliss 
Let  off  in  one  tremendous  kiss. 
"What's  that?"  the  startled  master  cries; 
"  That,  thir,"  a  little  imp  replies, 
"  Wath  William  Willith,  if  you  pleathe ; 
I  thaw  him  kith  Thuthanna  Peathe." 
With  frown  to  make  a  statue  thrill, 
The  master  thundered,  "  Hither, Will !" 
i  Like  wretch  o'ertaken  in  his  track, 
With  'stolen  chattels  on  his  back, 
Will  hung  his  head  in  fear  and  shame, 
And  to  the  awful  presence  came — 
A  great,  green,  bashful  simpleton, 
The  butt  of  all  good-natured  fun. 
With  smile  suppressed,  and  birch  upraised, 
The  threatener  faltered :  "  I'm  amazed 
That  you,  my  biggest  pupil,  should 
Be  guilty  of  an  act  so  rude ; 
Before  the  whole  set  school  to  boot — 
What  evil  genius  set  you  to  't  ?" 
"  'Twas  she  herself,  sir,"  sobbed  the  lad ; 
u  I  did  not  mean  to  be  so  bad ; 
But  when  Susannah  shook  her  curls, 
And  whispered  I  was  'fraid  of  girls, 
And  dursn't  kiss  a  baby's  doll, 
t  couldn't  stand  it,  sir,  at  all, 


264  MANUAL    OF    BEADING. 

But  up  and  kissed  her  on  the  spot. 
I  know — boo-hoo — I  ought  to  not, 
But,  somehow,  from  her  looks — boo-hoo— 
I  thought  she  kind  o'  wished  me  to  !"  . 


THE  BRIDAL  WINE-CUP. 

"  Pledge  with  wine — pledge  with  wine,"  cried  the  young 
and  thoughtless  Harvey  Wood;  "pledge  with  wine,"  ran 
through  the  bridal  party. 

The  beautiful  bride  grew  pale  —  the  decisive  hour  had 
come.  She  pressed  her  white  hands  together,  and  the  leaves 
of  the  bridal  wreath  trembled  on  her  brow;  her  breath  came 
quicker,  and  her  heart  beat  wilder. 

"  Yes,  Marion,  lay  aside  your  scruples  for  this  once,"  said 
the  judge,  in  a  low  tone,  going  toward  his  daughter;  "the 
company  expect  it.  Do  not  so  seriously  infringe  upon  the 
rules  of  etiquette;  in  your  own  home,  do  as  you  please;  but 
in  mine,  for  this  once,  please  meP 

Every  eye  was  turned  toward  the  bridal  pair.  Marion's 
principles  were  well  known.  Harvey  had  been  a  convivial- 
ist,  but  of  late  his  friends  noticed  the  change  in  his  manners, 
the  difference  in  his  habits ;  and  to-night  they  watched  him 
to  see,  as  they  sneeringly  said,  if  he  was  tied  down  to  a  wom- 
an's opinion  so  soon. 

Pouring  a  brimming  cup,  they  held  it  with  tempting  smiles 
toward  Marion.  She  was  very  pale,  though  mok  composed; 
and  her  hand  shook  not,  as,  smiling  back,  she  gracefully  ac- 
cepted the  crystal  tempter,  and  raised  it  to  her  lips.  But 
scarcely  had  she  done  so,  when  every  hand  was  arrested  by 
her  piercing  exclamation  of"  Oh,  how  terrible  !" 

"What  is  it  ?"  cried  one  and  all,  thronging  together,  for  she 
had  slowly  carried  the  glass  at  arm's  length,  and  was  fixedly 
regarding  it  as  though  it  were  some  hideous  object. 

"  Wait,"  she  answered,  while  a  light,  which  seemed  in- 
spired, shone  from  her  dark  eyes ;  "  wait,  and  I  will  tell  you. 
I  see,"  she  added,  slowly,  pointing  one  jeweled  linger  at  the 
sparkling  ruby  liquid,  "  a  sight  that  beggars  all  description ; 
and  yet  listen  :  I  will  paint  it  for  you  if  I  can.     It  is  a  love- 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         265 

ly  spot ;  tall  mountains,  crowned  with  verdure,  rise  in  awful 
sublimity  around ;  a  river  runs  through,  and  bright  flowers 
grow  to  the  water's  edge.  There  is  a  thick,  warm  mist,  that 
the  sun  seeks  vainlv  to  pierce.  Trees,  lofty  and  beautiful, 
wave  to  the  airy  motion  of  the  birds  ;  but  there — a  group 
of  Indians  gather;  they  flit  to  and  fro  with  something  like 
sorrow  upon  their  dark  brows.  And  in  their  midst  lies  a 
manly  form — but  his  cheek,  how  deathly ;  his  eye  wild  with 
the  fitful  fire  of  fever.  One  friend  stands  behind  him — nay, 
I  should  say  kneels;  for, see, he  is  pillowing  that  poor  head 
upon  his  breast. 

"  Genius  in  ruins — oh  the  high,  holy  looking  brow  !  why 
should  death  mark  it,  and  he  so  young?  Look  how  he 
throws  back  the  damp  curls !  See  him  clasp  his  hands ! 
Hear  his  thrilling  shrieks  for  life!  Mark  how  he  clutches 
at  the  form  of  his  companion,  imploring  to  be  saved.  Oh, 
hear  him  call  piteously  his  father's  name — see  him  twine  his 
fingers  together  as  he  shrieks  for  his  sister — his  only  sister 
— the  twin  of  his  soul — weeping  for  him  in  his  distant  native 
land. 

"  See  !"  she  exclaimed,  while  the  bridal  party  shrank  back, 
the  untasted  wine  trembling  in  their  faltering  grasp,  and  the 
judge  fell,  overpowered,  upon  his  seat — "see!  his  arms  are 
lifted  to  heaven — he  prays,  how  wildly,  for  mercy  !  hot  fever 
rushes  through  his  veins.  The  friend  beside  him  is  weeping; 
awe-stricken,  the  dark  men  move  silently  away,  and  leave  the 
living  and  the  dying  together." 

There  was  a  hush  in  that  princely  parlor,  broken  only  by 
what  seemed  a  smothered  sob  from  some  manly  bosom.  The 
bride  stood  yet  upright,  with  quivering  lip,  and  tears  steal- 
ing to  the  outward  edge  of  her  lashes.  Her  beautiful  arm 
had  lost  its  tension,  and  the  glass,  with  its  little  troubled  red 
waves,  came  slowly  toward  the  range  of  her  vision.  She 
spoke  again ;  every  lip  wTas  mute.  Her  voice  was  low,  faint, 
yet  awfully  distinct !  She  still  fixed  her  sorrowful  glance 
upon  the  wine-cup. 

"  It  is  evening  now ;  the  great  white  mooft  is  coming  up, 
and  her  beams  lie  gently  on  his  forehead.  He  moves  not ; 
his  eyes  are  set  in  their  sockets;   dim  are  their  piercing 

M 


266  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

glances ;  in  vain  his  friend  whispers  the  name  of  father  and 
sister — death  is  there.  Death — and  no  soft  hand,  no  gentle 
voice  to  bless  and  soothe  him.  His  head  sinks  back;  one 
convulsive  shudder — he  is  dead." 

A  groan  ran  through  the  assembly.  So  vivid  was  her  de- 
scription, so  unearthly  her  look,  so  inspired  her  manner,  that 
what  she  described  seemed  actually  to  have  taken  place  then 
and  there.  They  noticed,  also,  that  the  bridegroom  hid  his 
face  in  his  hands,  and  was  weeping. 

"  Dead  !"  she  repeated  again,  her  lips  quivering  faster  and 
faster,  and  her  voice  more  and  more  broken ;  "  and  there 
they  scoop  him  a  grave,  and  there,  without  a  shroud,  they 
lay  him  down  in  that  damp,  reeking  earth — the  only  son  of 
a  proud  father,  the  only  idolized  brother  of  a  fond  sister. 
And  he  sleeps  to-day  in  that  distant  country,  with  no  stone 
to  mark  the  spot.  There  he  lies — my  father's  son — my  own 
twin  brother  !  a  victim  to  this  deadly  poison.  Father,"  she 
exclaimed,  turning  suddenly,  while  the  tears  rained  down  her 
beautiful  cheeks, "  father,  shall  I  drink  it  now  ?" 

The  form  of  the  old  judge  was  convulsed  with  agony.  He 
raised  not  his  head,  but  in  a  smothered  voice  he  faltered, 
"  No,  no,  my  child — no  !" 

She  lifted  the  glittering  goblet,  and,  letting  it  suddenly 
fall  to  the  floor,  it  was  dashed  in  a  thousand  pieces.  Many  a 
tearful  eye  watched  her  movement,  and  instantaneously  ev- 
ery wine-glass  was  transferred  to  the  marble  table  on  which 
it  had  been  prepared.  Then,  as  she  looked  at  the  fragments 
of  crystal,  she  turned  to  the  company,  saying, "  Let  no  friend 
hereafter,  who  loves  me,  tempt  me  to  peril  my  soul  for  wine. 
Not  firmer  are  the  everlasting  hills  than  my  resolve,  God 
helping  me,  never  to  touch  or  taste  the  poison-cup.  And  he 
to  whom  I  have  given  my  hand,  who  watched  over  my 
brother's  dying  form  in  that  last  solemn  hour,  and  buried 
the  dear  wanderer  there  by  the  river,  in  that  land  of  gold, 
will,  I  trust,  sustain  me  in  that  resolve.  Will  you  not,  my 
husband  ?" 

His  glistening  eyes,  his  sad,  sweet  smile,  was  her  answer. 
The  judge  left  the  room ;  and  when,  an  hour  after,  he  return- 
ed, and  with  a  more  subdued  manner  took  part  in  the  enter- 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         267 

tainment  of  the  bridal  guests,  no  one  could  fail  to  read  that 
he,  too,  had  determined  to  banish  the  enemy  at  once  and  for- 
ever from  his  princely  home. 

Those  who  were  present  at  that  wedding  can  never  for- 
get the  impressions  so  solemnly  made.  Many  from  that  hour 
renounced  forever  the  social  glass. 


THE  CHRISTMAS-TREE.— Carrier's  Address,  Philadelphia  Post. 
Hurra  !  hurra  !  for  the  Christmas-tree, 
May  it  flourish  for  aye  in  its  greenery. 
When  the  winter  comes  with  its  whitening  snow, 
How  proudly  the  Christmas-tree  doth  grow  ! 
It  spreadeth  its  boughs  so  broad  and  so  fair, 
And  jolly  and  gay  are  the  fruits  they  bear. 

Then  hurra !  hurra  !  for  the  Christmas-tree ; 

Hurra !  hurra !  for  its  mirth  and  glee ; 

When  forests  of  oak  have  passed  from  the  land, 

The  jolly  old  Christmas-tree  shall  stand. 

There  are  wonderful  plants  far  over  the  sea, 
But  what  are  they  all  to  the  Christmas-tree  ? 
Does  the  oak  bear  candies,  the  palm-tree  skates  ? 
But  sugar-plums,  trumpets,  doll-babies,  slates, 
Picture-books,  elephants,  soldiers,  cows, 
All  grow  at  once  on  the  Christmas-tree  boughs. 

Then  hurra !  hurra !  for  the  Christmas-tree ; 

Hurra !  hurra !  for  its  mirth  and  glee ; 

When  forests  of  oak  have  passed  from  the  land, 

The  jolly  old  Christmas-tree  shall  stand. 
Oh,  many  the  homes  it  hath  happy  made, 
When  the  little  ones  under  its  leaves  have  played ; 
Oh,  sweet  are  the  pleasures  around  it  that  spring, 
And  dear  are  the  thoughts  of  the  past  they  bring. 
Then  long  may  it  flourish,  and  green  may  it  be, 
The  merry,  mighty  old  Christmas-tree. 

Hurra !  hurra !  for  the  Christmas-tree ; 

Long  shall  it  flourish,  green  shall  it  ^e  ; 

When  forests  have  passed  away  from  the  land, 

The  jolly  old  Christmas-tree  shall  stand. 


268  MANUAL   OF    READING. 

BARBARA  PRIETCHIE. 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 
Up  from  the  meadows  rich  with  corn. 
Clear  in  the  cool  September  morn, 
The  clustered  spires  of  Frederick  stand, 
Green-walled  by  the  hills  of  Maryland. 
Round  about  them  orchards  sweep, 
Apple  and  peach  tree  fruited  deep, 
Fair  as  a  garden  of  the  Lord 
To  the  eyes  of  the  famished  rebel  horde, 
On  that  pleasant  morn  of  the  early  fall, 
When  Lee  marched  over  the  mountain-wall — 
Over  the  mountains,  winding  down, 
Horse  and  foot,  into  Frederick  town. 
Forty  flags  with  their  silver  stars, 
Forty  flags  with  their  crimson  bars, 
Flapped  in  the  morning  wind ;  the  sun 
Of  noon  looked  down,  and  saw  not  one. 

Up  rose  old  Barbara  Frietchie  then, 
Bowed  with  her  fourscore  years  and  ten ; 
Bravest  of  all  in  Frederick  town, 
She  took  up  the  flag  the  men  hauled  down ; 

In  her  attic  window  the  staff  she  set, 
To  show  that  one  heart  was  loyal  yet. 

Up  the  street  came  the  rebel  tread, 
Stone  wallJackson  riding  ahead. 

Under  his  slouched  hat,  left  and  right, 
He  glanced — the  old  flag  met  his  sight : 
"  Halt !" — the  dust-brown  ranks  stood  fast ; 
"  Fire  !" — out  blazed  the  rifle-blast ; 
It  shivered  the  window,  pane  and  sash ; 
It  rent  the  banner  with  seam  and  gash. 

Quiok,  as  it  fell,  from  the  broken  staff 
Dame  Barbara  snatched  the  silken  scarf; 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         263 

She  leaned  far  out  on  the  window-sill, 
And  shook  it  forth  with  a  royal  will : 

"  Shoot,  if  you  must,  this  old  gray  head, 
But  spare  your  country's  flag !"  she  said. 

A  shade  of  sadness,  a  blush  of  shame, 
Over  the  face  of  the  leader  came ; 

The  nobler  nature  within  hirn  stirred 
To  life  at  that  woman's  deed  and  word : 

"  Who  touches  a  hair  of  yon  gray  head 
Dies  like  a  dog !     March  on  !"  he  said. 

All  day  long  through  Frederick  street 
Sounded  the  tread  of  marching  feet ; 

All  day  long  that  free  flag  tossed 
Over  the  heads  of  the  rebel  host. 

Ever  its  torn  folds  rose  and  fell 

On  the  loyal  winds  that  loved  it  well ; 

And  through  the  hill-gaps  sunset  light 
Shone  over  it  with  a  warm  good-night. 

Barbara  Frietchie's  work  is  o'er, 

And  the  rebel  rides  on  his  raids  no  more. 

Honor  to  her !  and  let  a  tear 

Fall,  for  her  sake,  on  Stonewall's  bier. 

Over  Barbara  Frietchie's  grave, 
Flag  of  freedom  and  union,  wave! 

Peace,  and  order,  and  beauty,  draw 
Round  thy  symbols  of  light  and  law ; 

And  ever  the  stars  above  look  down 
On  thy  stars  below  in  Frederick  town ! 


DEATH  OF  LITTLE  NELL.—  From  the  Old  Curiosity  Shop. 

Charles  Dickens. 
By  little  and  little  the  old  man  had  drawn  back  toward 
the  inner  chamber  while  these  words  were  spoken.     He 
pointed  there  as  he  replied,  with  trembling  lips, 


270  MANUAL   OP   READING, 

"You  plot  among  you  to  wean  my  heart  from  her.  You 
will  never  do  that — never  while  I  have  life.  I  have  no  rel- 
ative or  friend  but  her — I  never  had — I  never  will  have. 
She  is  all  in  all  to  me.     It  is  too  late  to  part  us  now." 

Waving  them  off  with  his  hand,  and  calling  softly  to  her 
as  he  went,  he  stole  into  the  room.  They  who  were  left  be- 
hind drew  close  together,  and,  after  a  few  whispered  words 
-—not  unbroken  by  emotion  or  easily  uttered  —  followed 
him.  They  moved  so  gently  that  their  footsteps  made  no 
noise,  but  there  were  sobs  from  among  the  group,  and  sounds 
of  grief  and  mourning. 

For  she  was  dead.  There,  upon  her  little  bed,  she  lay  at 
rest.     The  solemn  stillness  was  no  marvel  now. 

She  was  dead.  No  sleep  so  beautiful  and  calm,  so  free 
from  trace  of  pain,  so  fair  to  look  upon.  She  seemed  a  creat- 
ure fresh  from  the  hand  of  God,  and  waiting  for  the  breath 
of  life — not  one  who  had  lived  and  suffered  death. 

Her  couch  was  dressed  with,  here  and  there,  some  winter 
berries  and  green  leaves,  gathered  in  a  spot  she  had  been 
used  to  favor.  "When  I  die,  put  near  me  something  that 
has  loved  the  light,  and  had  the  sky  above  it  always." 
These  were  her  words. 

Che  was  dead.  Dear,  gentle,  patient,  noble  Nell  was 
dead.  Her  little  bird — a  poor  slight  thing  the  pressure  of 
a  finger  would  have  crushed — was  stirring  nimbly  in  its 
cage,  and  the  strong  heart  of  its  child-mistress  was  mute 
and  motionless  forever. 

Where  were  the  traces  of  her  early  cares,  her  sufferings, 
and  fatigues?  All  gone.  His  was  the  true  death  before 
their  eyes.  Sorrow  was  dead  indeed  in  her,  but  peace  and 
perfect  happiness  were  born,  imaged  in  her  tranquil  beauty 
and  profound  repose. 

And  still  her  former  self  lay  there,  unaltered  in  this  change. 
Yes ;  the  old  fireside  had  smiled  on  that  same  sweet  face ;  it 
had  passed  like  a  dream  through  haunts  of  misery  and  care ; 
at  the  door  of  the  poor  schoolmaster  on  the  summer  even- 
ing— before  the  furnace-fire  on  the  cold,  wet  night — at  the 
still,  dying  bey,  there  had  been  the  same  mild,  lovely  look. 
So  shall  we  know  the  angels  in  their  majesty,  after  death. 


SELECTIONS   FOR   THE    YOUNG   FOLKS.  2  V 1 

The  old  man  held  one  languid  arm  in  his,  and  kept  the 
small  hand  tight  folded  to  his  breast,  for  warmth.  It  was 
the  hand  she  had  stretched  out  to  him  with  her  last  smile — 
the  hand  that  had  led  him  on  through  all  their  wanderings. 
Ever  and  anon  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  then  hugged  it  to 
his  breast  again,  murmuring  that  it  was  warmer  now — and, 
as  he  said  it,  he  looked  in  agony  to  those  who  stood  around, 
as  if  imploring  them  to  help  her. 

She  was  dead,  and  past  all  help,  or  need  of  it.  The  an- 
cient rooms  she  had  seemed  to  fill  with  life,  even  while  her 
own  was  ebbing  fast — the  garden  she  had  tended — the  eyes 
she  had  gladdened — the  noiseless  haunts  of  many  a  thought- 
less hour — the  paths  she  had  trodden  as  if  it  were  but  yes- 
terday, could  know  her  no  more. 

"  It  is  not,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  as  he  bent  down  to  kiss 
her  on  her  cheek,  and  gave  his  tears  free  vent, "  it  is  not  in 
this  world  that  heaven's  justice  ends.  Think  what  it  is 
compared  with  the  world  to  which  her  young  spirit  has 
winged  its  early  flight,  and  say,  if  one  deliberate  wish,  ex- 
pressed in  solemn  terms  above  this  bed,  could  call  her  back 
to  life,  which  of  us  would  utter  it !" 


KATIE  LEE  AND  WILLIE  GRAY. 

Two  brown  heads  with  tossing  curls, 
lied  lips  shutting  over  pearls, 
Bare  feet,  white,  and  wet  with  dew, 
Two  eyes  black,  and  two  eyes  blue — 
Little  boy  and  girl  were  they, 
Katie  Lee  and  Willie  Gray. 

They  were  standing  where  a  brook, 
Bending  like  a  shepherd's  crook, 
Flashed  its  silver,  and  thick  ranks 
Of  willow  fringed  its  banks — 
Half  in  thought  and  half  in  play, 
Katie  Lee  and  Willie  Gray. 

They  had  cheeks  like  cherries  red  ; 
He  was  taller  'most  a  head ; 


272  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

She,  with  arms  like  wreaths  of  snow, 
Swung  a  basket  to  and  fro 
(As  they  loitered,  half  in  play), 
Chattering  to  Willie  Gray. 

"  Pretty  Katie,"  Willie  said—      ■ 
And  there  came  a  dash  of  red 
Through  the  brownness  of  the  cheek— 
"  Boys  are  strong,  and  girls  are  weak, 
And  I'll  carry,  so  I  will, 
Katie's  basket  up  the  hill." 

Katie  answered  with  a  laugh, 
"You  shall  carry  only  half;" 
Then  said,  tossing  back  her  curls, 
"  Boys  are  weak  as  well  as  girls." 
Do  you  think  that  Katie  guessed 
Half  the  wisdom  she  expressed  ? 

Men  are  only  boys  grown  tall ; 
Hearts  don't  change  much,  after  all ; 
And  when,  long  years  from  that  day, 
Katie  Lee  and  Willie  Gray 
Stood  again  beside  the  brook 
Bending  like  a  shepherd's  crook, 

Is  it  strange  that  Willie  said, 
While  again  a  dash  of  red 
Crowned  the  brownness  of  his  cheek, 
"  I  am  strong,  and  you  are  weak ; 
Life  is  but  a  slippery  steep, 
Hung  with  shadows  cold  and  deep. 

"  Will  you  trust  me,  Katie  dear — 
Walk  beside  me  without  fear  ? 
May  I  carry,  if  I  will, 
All  your  burdens  up  the  hill?" 
And  she  answered  with  a  laugh, 
"  No,  but  you  may  carry  half." 

Close  beside  the  little  brook 
Bending  like  a  shepherd's  crook, 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         273 

Working  with  its  silver  hands 
Late  and  early  at  the  sands, 
Stands  a  cottage,  where  to-day- 
Katie  lives  with  Willie  Gray. 

In  the  porch  she  sits,  and,  lo  ! 
Swings  a  basket  to  and  fro 
Vastly  different  from  the  one 
That  she  swung  in  years  agone : 
This  is  long,  and  deep,  and  wide, 
And  has — rockers  at  the  side ! 


SHERIDAN'S  RIDE. 

Thomas  Buchanan  Readw 
Up  from  the  South  at  break  of  day, 
Bringing  to  Winchester  fresh  dismay, 
The  affrighted  air  with  a  shudder  bore, 
Like  a  herald  in  haste,  to  the  chieftain's  door, 
The  terrible  grumble,  and  rumble,  and  roar, 
Telling  the  battle  was  on  once  more, 
And  Sheridan  twenty  miles  away. 

And  wider  still  those  billows  of  war 

Thundered  along  the  horizon's  bar, 

And  louder  yet  into  Winchester  rolled 

The  roar  of  that  red  sea  uncontrolled, 

Making  the  blood  of  the  listener  cold 

As  he  thought  of  the  stake  in  that  fiery  fray, 

And  Sheridan  twenty  miles  away. 

But  there  is  a  road  from  Winchester  town, 
A  good,  broad  highway  leading  down  ; 
And  there,  through  the  flush  of  the  morning  light, 
A  steed  as  black  as  the  steeds  of  night 
Was  seen  to  pass  as  with  eagle  flight. 
As  if  he  knew  the  terrible  need, 
He  stretched  away  with  the  utmost  speed ; 
Hills  rose  and  fell — but  his  heart  was  gay, 
With  Sheridan  fifteen  miles  away. 
M2 


/ 


274  MANUAL    OP   HEADING. 

Still  sprung  from  those  swift  hoofs,  thundering  south, 
«    The  dust,  like  the  smoke  from  the  cannon's  mouth, 
Or  the  tail  of  a  comet,  sweeping  faster  and  faster, 
Foreboding  to  traitors  the  doom  of  disaster. 
The  heart  of  the  steed  and  the  heart  of  the  master 
Were  beating,  like  prisoners  assaulting  their  Avails, 
Impatient  to  be  where  the  battle-field  calls. 
Each  nerve  of  the  charger  was  strained  to  full  play, 
With  Sheridan  only  ten  miles  away. 

Under  his  spurning  feet,  the  road 

Like  an  arrowy  Alpine  river  flowed, 

And  the  landscape  fled  away  behind 

Like  an  ocean  flying  before  the  wind ; 

And  the  steed,  like  a  bark  fed  with  furnace  ire, 

Swept  on  wTith  his  wild  eyes  full  of  fire. 

But,  lo  !  he  is  nearing  his  heart's  desire  ; 

He  is  snuffing  the  smoke  of  the  roaring  fray, 

With  Sheridan  only  five  miles  away. 

The  first  that  the  general  saw  were  the  groups 

Of  stragglers,  and  then  the  retreating  troops ; 

What  was  done — what  to  do — a  glance  told  him  both, 

And,  striking  his  spurs  with  a  terrible  oath, 

He  dashed  down  the  line  'mid  a  storm  of  huzzas, 

And  the  wave  of  retreat  checked  its  course  there,  because 

The  sight  of  the  master  compelled  it  to  pause. 

With  foam  and  with  dust  the  black  charger  was  gray — 

By  the  flash  of  his  eye  and  his  nostril's  play, 

He  seemed  to  the  whole  great  army  to  say, 

"  I  have  brought  you  Sheridan,  all  the  way 

From  Winchester  down,  to  save  the  day  !" 

Hurra  !  hurra  for  Sheridan  ! 

Hurra !  hurra  for  horse  and  man  ! 

And  when  their  statues  are  placed  on  high, 

Under  the  dome  of  the  Union  sky — 

The  American  soldier's  temple  of  fame — 

There,  with  the  glorious  general's  name, 


SELECTIONS   FOR   THE    YOUNG   FOLKS.  275 

Be  it  said  in  letters  both  bold  and  bright, 
"Here  is  the  steed  that  saved  the  day 
By  carrying  Sheridan  into  the  fight 
From  Winchester,  twenty  miles  away  I" 


THE  BOTTLE  IMP.— From  the  Little  Corporal. 

Julia  M.  Thayer. 

"  Come,  little  Hans,"  said  the  lame  cobbler,  with  a  good- 
natured  wink,  "  run  round  the  corner  for  father,  and  get  the 
bottle  filled ;  here's  a  penny  for  a  ginger-snap ;  quick,  now, 
before  the  mother  gets  back  !  he !  he  !  he !"  and  he  nodded 
and  chuckled  to  himself,  as  if  it  were  a  rare  joke  to  send  the 
absent  mother's  darling  on  a  fiend's  errand,  whither  the  an- 
gel of  her  prayers  would  hardly  follow. 

The  little  one  hesitated,  knowing,  in  his  heart,  that  the 
mother  would  say  "  Kay,  the  child  shall  not  meddle  with 
hell-fire ;"  but  was  there  ever  a  little  one  could  resist  a  gin- 
ger-snap ?  Not  Hans  Christopher,  certainly,  for  whom  the 
cottage  shelf  seldom  held  such  dainties. 

"  There  goes  the  cobbler's  boy  to  old  Grinder's  den,  with 
a  big  black  bottle,"  said  the  brisk  little  dress-maker  over  the 
way,  glancing  out  of  the  window.  "  ISTow  we'll  not  hear  the 
rat-tat-tat  of  his  hammer  again  for  another  fortnight.  Moth- 
er, what  think  you  will  ever  become  of  that  man  ?  He  goes 
from  bad  to  worse,  that's  certain  ;  and  the  boy  will  be  ditto, 
I  suppose.  None  of  my  business  ?  Of  course  not ;  it  is  none 
of  my  business  that  my  own  father  and  brother  went  the 
same  way  to  destruction ;  it  is  none  of  my  business  that  ten 
thousand  fathers  and  brothers — "  she  stopped  suddenly,  for 
the  old  woman's  sigh  struck  her  to  the  heart. 

Meantime  little  Hans  came  back,  picking  his  way  carefully 
over  the  rough  paving-stones. 

"  Say,  little  one,"  and  the  dress-maker  put  her  head  out  at 
the  window, "  what  have  you  in  that  lovely  junk  bottle  ?  Is 
it  a  nice  sup  of  his  infernal  majesty's  favorite  bitters,  season- 
ed with  tears  and  curses  ?  Your  mother  likes  to  have  your 
father  drink  that,  don't  she  ?  Take  care !  don't  spill  a  drop 
of  the  precious  stuff.     I'll  tell  you  what,  little  boy,"  and  the 


2*76  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

tone  sunk  to  an  awful  whisper,  "  there's  an  ugly  little  black 
imp  shut  up  in  that  bottle ;  you  let  him  out,  and  sometime 
he'll  tear  the  very  heart  out  of  your  body  /" 

She  shut  the  window  with  a  jerk;  and  little  Hans,  on 
wings  of  terror,  flew  back  to  the  dingy  shop. 

"  Oh,  father,"  he  shrieked,  panting  for  breath,  "don't  let 
him  out !  don't  let  him  out !" 

"  Who  ?  What  ?  The  child's  bewitched,"  said  the  cob- 
bler, pausing  in  the  act  of  drawing  the  cork. 

u  The — the — oh,  father,  she  said  there  was  a — imp — in  the 
bottle,  and  he'd  tear  your  heart  to  pieces !  Don't !  Oh,  fa- 
ther, don't !"  and  he  held  up  his  little  hands  imploringly, 
while  drops  of  perspiration  beaded  his  face. 

Such  agony  was  distressing  to  witness,  and  Christopher 
set  the  bottle  down  to  reason  with  the  child. 

"  What  is  it,  Hans?  Who  has  been  putting  this  nonsense 
into  your  head  ?  Why,  let  me  tell  you,  little  man,  this  bot- 
tle is  my  comfort — my  angel ;  just  see,  now,  how  he  wrarms 
my  stomach,  and  cheers  my  heart,  and  is,  altogether,  a  very 
good  friend.  What  could  a  poor  man  do  without  it,  indeed? 
Here's  to  your  health,  little  Hans."  And  the  little  boy,  with 
horror,  saw  the  fatal  vessel  uncorked,  and  lifted  to  his  fa- 
ther's lips. 

Shrinking  back  into  the  uttermost  corner,  and  pressing  his 
hands  tightly  over  his  heart,  he  gazed  long  and  shuddering- 
ly ;  but  no  uncanny  imp  appearing  to  verify  the  dress-mak- 
er's assertion,  with  a  child's  light-heartedness  he  soon  dis- 
missed the  horrid  phantom  from  his  imagination. 

Not  so  Christopher.  A  new  train  of  thought  was  awaken- 
ed in  his  brain,  now  roused  to  unusual  activity  by  the  stim- 
ulating draught. 

"An  imp  in  the  bottle,  hah !  that  is  an  idee,  truly,"  quoth 
he  to  himself.  "An  imp  is  a  devil,  and  a  devil  is  good  for 
naught  but  to  frighten  women  and  children;  let  him  come  on ! 
I'm  not  a— feared!"  With  that  he  took  another  draught  of 
the  liquid  fire.  "  Go  to  blazes !  can't  a  man  have  a  drop  of 
somethin'  warm,  but  they  must  get  up  a  scarecrow  of  some 
sort  o'  nother  to  it  ?  Go  —  to  —  Good  God  !  there  he  is 
now,"  shrieked  the   cobbler,  gazing,  with   livid  face   and 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         277 

eyes  starting  from  their  sockets,  into  a  dusky  corner  of  th« 
room. 

"  Get  out !  get  out !  you  nasty,  grinning,  ill-mannered  dev 
il,  you  !  Get  out,  I  say  !"  flinging  his  hammer  at  the  fiend, 
while  boots,  lapstone,  and  last  went  flying  after. 

But  the  creature  moved  not.  He  sat  enveloped  in  a  blu» 
ish  smoke ;  his  tongue  darted  forth  flames,  and  the  glance  of 
his  eyes  burnt  into  the  cobbler's  very  soul,  who  already  feU 
those  horrid  claws  tugging  at  his  heart-strings. 

"  Come !"  said  the  goblin. 

Great  drops  of  sweat  rolled  down  the  cobbler's  face  as  he 
strove  in  vain  to  move  his  palsied  limbs. 

"Come !"  and  the  black-faced  imp  began  to  leer,  and  chuck- 
le, and  dance  about  in  horrid  glee. 

"I'm  the  bottle  sprite — your  comfort,  your  angel,  your 
good  friend,  in  whom  you  delight !  Cheer  up,  and  let's 
away ;  I've  something  to  show  you."  With  that  he  made 
a  dive  at  Christopher,  who,  with  superhuman  effort,  sprang 
from  his  bench,  and  struggled  wildly  toward  the  door.  He 
missed  it,  and,  after  spinning  round  and  round  like  a  top, 
went  sprawling  to  the  floor,  whence  the  bottle  sprite  lifted 
him  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  and  bore  him  off  triumphantly 
through  the  roof— away,  away  into  the  fields  of  air. 

At  last  he  found  himself  set  plump  upon  the  roof  of  a  vast 
distillery.  He  knew  it  by  the  pungent  odors  that  filled  his 
nostrils,  and  helped  to  restore  his  scattered  senses.  Squat 
before  him  was  his  black  "  angel,"  encircled  still  in  the  blue 
atmosphere  of  the  nether  world. 

Christopher  shrank  away  in  horror,  and  covered  his  face 
with  both  hands. 

"  You  loathe  me — you  shrink  from  me,"  hissed  the  imp ; 
"  me,  who  have  cheered,  and  warmed,  and  comforted  you  so 
often!     Is  that  fair?" 

The  cobbler  felt  his  brain  on  fire — his  throat  parched — his 
blood  like  molten  lead  in  his  veins. 

"Drink — give  me  drink  !"  he  cried,  in  an  agony  of  thirst ; 
"  devil  or  not,  I  must  have  drink." 

The  bottle  sprite  laughed  mockingly,  and  again  uttered 
the  masric  word  "  Come  !" 


278  MANUAL    OF    HEADING. 

They  descended  into  the  rooms  below.  There  were  huge 
vats  and  giant  hogsheads  of  steaming  liquor;  there  were 
loads  upon  loads  of  life-sustaining  grain,  toward  which  were 
lifted  the  empty,  outstretched  hands  of  famishing  thousands; 
there  were  ponderous  machines,  and  hundreds  of  men,  toil- 
ing to  convert  the  nutritious  gift  of  the  Creator  into  soul 
poison  and  body  poison.  And  there,  among  all,  and  over 
all,  and  flitting  hither  and  thither,  like  bats,  squatting  like 
toads,  or  creeping  like  reptiles,  were  myriads  of  uncanny 
imps — hate,  envy,  strife,  anger,  discord,  cruelty — all  baleful 
passions — all  fearful  and  disgusting  forms  of  devilishness. 
They  swarmed  round  the  vats,  casks,  and  demijohns ;  they 
plunged  and  frolicked  in  the  burning  liquid ;  they  clung  to 
it,  and  followed  it  through  all  its  changes,  and  whatever  its 
destination. 

"  Ah  !  comrades,  how  are  you  ?"  cried  Christopher's  "  an- 
gel," with  a  wicked  grin.  "  You're  at  it,  I  see.  You'll  never 
perish  here  for  lack  of  sustenance.  It's  vjhisky  that  does  it, 
my  hearties  !  Wherever  that  goes,  you  go ;  and  wherever 
you  go,  tears,  and  curses,  and  broken  hearts  follow.  Oh, 
you  make  a  jolly  world  of  it !  Success  to  you  !  Do  you  see 
that  cask  of  good  old  rye  ?"  said  the  philosophic  imp,  turn- 
ing to  Christopher,  who  by  this  time  had  nearly  forgotten 
his  thirst  in  amazement.  "I'll  tell  you  what  we  are  going 
to  do  with  that.  There's  murder  in  that,  and  suicide.  The 
man  that  drinks  it  will  kill  his  own  brother,  and  then  go  and 
hang  himself.  And,  see  here  !  this  lovely  bottle  of  Bourbon 
is  for  medicine.  Some  poor  sick  body'll  take  it  for  tic  dou- 
loureux, or  the  like.  What  then  ?  Why,  there's  a  sleeping 
serpent  in  it,  called  Appetite,  that  will  eat  into  that  soul  like 
a  canker.  Ah !  good  cobbler,  if  these  liquors  were  only 
named  according  to  their  real  uses,  what  an  array  we  should 
have  !  but  come !" 

Awa^y  they  sped,  over  prairies  laughing  in  the  sunshine, 
over  waters  dimpling  in  the  breeze,  over  cities  reeking  with 
vile  vapors,  and  bustling  with  all  the  activities  of  life.  They 
reached  the  land  of  the  vintage — a  land  of  peace  and  beauty. 
A  smiling  sky  looked  down  upon  a  smiling  landscape ;  the 
sons:  of  the  vintners  floated  far  on  the  still  summer  air; 


SELECTIONS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  FOLKS.         279 

grapes  hung  in  purple  clusters  from  the  vine,  or  stained  the 
wine -press  with  their  juices;  rosy  youths  and  maidens 
wrought  amid  the  vineyards.  "Here  it  begins,"  said  the 
bottle  imp ;  "  more  than  half  the  want  and  woe  over  yonder. 
You  wouldn't  think  it,  would  you,  so  calm  a  scene  ?  Toil 
away,  fair  youths  and  simple  maidens !  prepare  the  seduc- 
ing cup,  sweet,  and  bright,  and  sparkling ;  so  much  the  bet- 
ter— the  less  can  men  resist  it.  Oh,  to  see  it  fire  the  brain 
and  stir  the  heart  to  madness !  Oh,  to  see  it  drive  reason 
from  her  throne,  drown  the  voice  of  conscience,  and  stifle 
the  sense  of  pity  and  affection !  to  see  it  steal  the  bread  from 
the  poor  man's  shelf — his  food,  and  fire,  and  raiment — his 
honor,  hope,  happiness;  and,  last  of  all,  his  soul!  ha!  ha! 
Toil  on,  sweet  people,  dear  people ;  the  Evil  One  loves  your 
work !" 

The  grimaces  and  contortions  of  the  little  chuckling  fiend 
were  horrible  to  witness,  and  the  poor  cobbler  would  fain 
have  hidden  away  behind  some  friendly  trellis ;  but  no,  the 
spell  was  on  him,  and  he  must  away. 

"  That  is  as  it  was  in  the  very,  very  olden  time,"  continued 
the  fiend,  as  they  paused  upon  a  city  spire  for  Christopher  to 
take  breath.  "  We  bottle  imps  were  half  asleep  in  those 
days.  Men  drank  the  pure  juice  of  the  grape;  and,  though 
we  managed  to  creep  in,  very  much  to  their  undoing,  it  was 
nothing  compared  with  these  times — he  !  he !  Now  here's 
something  precious  to  show  you.     Come  !" 

They  descended,  by  what  witchcraft  the  cobbler  never 
knew,  to  dark,  underground  regions  —  vast  vaults,  where 
were  ranged,  on  every  side,  in  vessels  of  various  sorts,  what 
purported  to  he  pure  wines  and  liquors  of  every  description, 
cobwebbed  and  mildewed  with  age. 

"  Now  this  beats  the  other  place  all  to  nothing,  as  you 
shall  see,"  quoth  the  imp. 

Presently  a  little  weazen-faced  old  man  appeared,  bear- 
ing in  his  hand  a  lighted  taper,  which  moved  like  a  baleful 
star  amid  the  darkness. 

He  went  from  cask  to  cask, from  bottle  to  bottle;  and  ever, 
as  he  opened  and  closed  each  one,  in  went  a  horrid  little  im- 
age, compared  with  which  the  bottle  fiends  were  beautiful. 


280  MANUAL    OP   HEADING. 

Christopher's  black  "angel"  was  nearly  beside  himself  with 
mirth.  "Pop!  there  goes  another,"  said  he;  "  that's  arsenic; 
and  there's  opium,  and  copperas,  and  ichite  lead,  and  vitriol, 
and  nux  vomica,  and  coculus  inclicus,  and  a  host  of  others. 
There's  gripes  for  you,  and  scorching  fevers,  and  nausea,  and 
deadly  stupor,  and  wild  delirium — ha !  ha  !  ha !  what  a  jolly 
time  they  will  have  with  all  those  poisonous  devils.  Come, 
let's  see  to  it !" 

But  ah!  what  tongue  can  tell  the  heart-rending  pictures 
poor  Christopher  was  doomed  to  witness !  He  shrank  in  hor- 
ror from  each  new  scene,  but,  like  one  in  a  fearful  nightmare, 
he  was  dumb  and  powerless. 

Gifted  with  a  strange  clairvoyance,  he  saw  the  secret  can- 
ker gnawing  at  the  heart-strings  of  him  who  was  given  over 
to  appetite.  He  saw  the  young  wife  turn  in  torturing  mis- 
ery from  her  husband's  bloated  visage ;  he  saw  the  promis- 
ing youth,  yet  encircled  by  his  mother's  prayers,  lured  by  the 
sparkling  wine-cup,  break  over  all  restraints,  while  the  roses 
of  joy  and  love  fell  blighted  round  his  path ;  and  the  rainbow 
of  hope,  which  once  spanned  his  way,  was  shrouded  in  tem- 
pest and  darkness.  He  saw  that  mother's  heart  torn  with 
anguish  as  she  laid  her  first-born  in  a  drunkard's  grave ;  he 
saw  the  upturned,  pitiful  faces  of  the  drunkard's  children,  in- 
nocent, but  accursed  ;  he  saw  brother  smiting  brother  in  his 
frenzy;  and  women,  once  tender  and  beautiful,  besotted 
drunkards ;  and  among  all,  and  above  all,  the  bottle  imps 
still  played  their  wild  pranks,  and  chuckled,  in  hellish  glee, 
over  the  ruin  they  had  wrought. 

Christopher  saw  all  this,  and  it  burned  deeply  into  his 
soul.  The  sparkling  glass,  the  well-filled  demijohn,  no  lon- 
ger charmed  him.  Oh,  for  some  mighty  talisman  by  which  to 
exorcise  all  these  demons,  and  sweep  every  vestige  of  them 
from  the  earth ! 

But  still  his  lips  were  dumb.  Then,  with  a  wild  longing, 
his  heart  turned  toward  home.  "  Come  !"  said  the  imp,  as  if 
divining  his  thoughts,  and  they  swiftly  neared  the  dingy 
shop. 

How  plainly,  now,  he  beheld,  through  clapboard  and  raft- 
er, the  emptiness  of  the  spot  —  the  unlighted  hearth,  the 


SELECTIONS   FOR  THE   YOUNG   FOLKS.  281 

scanty  wardrobe,  the  stinted  board ;  the  lonely  heart  there/* 
pining  for  affection ;  the  well-nigh  fatherless  child,  now  cling- 
ing to  him  with  winning  confidence,  now  shrinking  utterly 
away  in  pain  and  terror. 

"Ah !  but  this  is  a  fine  place,  isn't  it  ?"  said  the  bottle  imp, 
delightedly;  "not  much  elegance  and  beauty,  or  even  com- 
fort, here.  A  good  many  tears  have  been  shed  —  a  good 
many  ghosts  of  dead  hopes  and  joys  are  flitting  round  ;  but 
we'll  do  better  than  that !  Only  stick  to  the  bottle,  good 
Christopher,  and  we'll  stay  by  you,  never  fear !  Here  are  a 
few  tools  might  yet  be  pawned  for  liquor ;  things  aren't  quite 
so  rickety  as  they  may  be.  And  then  the  woman — she's  a 
brave  one  —  she  works  hard  to  keep  things  together,  and 
wears  a  pretty  bright  face,  but  we'll  break  her  heart  yet — 
and  the  little  one !  for  all  her  tender  coddlings  and  fine 
teachings,  just  train  him  up  to  follow  your  footsteps,  and 
won't  he  toss  the  first  clod  upon  her  grave  ?" 

The  poor  cobbler  wept  and  groaned  in  anguish  of  spirit, 
for,  with  all  his  faults,  he  heartily  loved  his  wife  and  child, 
and  thoroughly  detested  his  own  bad  ways. 

With  one  last,  mighty  effort,  he  broke  the  spell  that  bound 
him. 

"  Out,  fiend !  liar !  devil !"  he  shrieked ;  "  take  that — and 
that !" 

Crash — clatter — crash  ! 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  ?"  exclaimed  Madame  Christo- 
pher, just  hurrying  in  from  her  morning's  scanty  marketing. 

"  Oh, father,  have  you  done  it?  have  you  smashed  him?" 
shouted  little  Hans,  capering  with  glee  around  the  shining 
fragments  of  the  "  lovely  junk  bottle." 

"  Yes,  my  son,  I  have  done  it,  and  I  am  done  with  it  for- 
ever!" said  Christopher,  gathering  himself  up  slowly  from 
the  floor,  and  standing  erect  upon  his  lame  leg. 

"Do  tell,  mother!  what  do  you  think?"  said  the  little 
dress-maker,  one  day.  "  Doesn't  every  thing  go  nicely  over 
the  way  ?  Little  Hans  is  as  happy  and  well-dressed  a  boy  as 
one  often  sees,  and  Madame  steps  around  about  her  work  as 
if  she  was  fairly  dancing  to  the  rat-tat-tat  of  the  cobbler's 
hammer." 


282  MANUAL   OF  BEADING. 

RULES  FOR  LIFE. 

1.  Keep  good  company,  or  none. 

2.  Speak  the  truth,  or  nothing. 

3.  Make  few  promises,  and  keep  them. 

4.  Drink  no  intoxicating  liquors. 

5.  Never  play  at  games  of  chance. 

6.  Never  be  idle. 

7.  Earn  money  before  you  spend  it. 

8.  Do  that  first  which  needs  doing  most. 

9.  Make  no  haste  to  be  rich. 

10.  Investigate  affairs  closely,  and  engage  in  them  cau- 
tiously. 

11.  Lay  your  plans  with  prudence,  and  be  prepared  for 
emergencies. 

12.  In  difficulties  be  patient,  and  overcome  them  by  per- 
severance. 

13.  Say  nothing  that  you  would  be   ashamed  to  hear 
again. 

14.  When  you  retire  at  night,  think  over  the  events  of 
the  day,  and  avoid  to-morrow  the  errors  of  to-day. 


GERMAN  QUOTATIONS  AND  PROVERBS. 

1.  By  the  street  of  By-and-by  one  arrives  at  the  house  of 
Never. 

2.  If  you  are  an  anvil,  be  patient ;  if  you  are  a  hammer, 
strike  hard. 

3.  One  to-day  is  better  than  ten  to-morrows. 

4.  Once  in  people's  mouths,  'tis  hard  to  get  out  of  them. 

5.  Procrastination  of  a  good  deed  has  often  brought  re- 
pentance.— Gleim. 

6.  We  must  wait  for  the  future,  and  enjoy  or  bear  the 
present. — Wilhelm  von  Humboldt. 

7.  Divide  and  command, a  wise  maxim;  unite  and  guide, 
a  better. — Goethe. 

8.  We  are  accustomed  to  see  men  deride  what  they  do 
not  understand,  and  snarl  at  the  good  and  beautiful  because 
it  lies  beyond  their  sympathies. — Goethe. 


MISCELLANEOUS  SELECTIONS. 


FULL  OF  SNOW. 

Rev.  Joseph  Cook. 
Out  in  the  wind  and  storm,  upon  a  tree 
All  stripped  and  bare,  sits  drearily 

A  bird's  nest  full  of  snow, 
From  which  the  bird  has  parted  long  ago. 
From  the  cold  nest  no  song  of  bird  is  flowing, 
No  cry  for  food  from  tender  nestlings  going, 
Full  of  snow. 

Mourning  and  sad  the  barren  branches  wave 
Around  the  nest — an  unprotected  grave ; 

'Tis  sad  to  see  it  so, 
Braving  the  storm,  from  which  it  can  not  go ; 
Fetters  of  ice  the  driving  sleet  is  leaving, 
Yet  still  to  that  cold  branch  we  see  it  cleaving 
'Neath  sun,  and  moon,  and  winter's  heaving 
Full  of  snow. 

Type  of  a  wilder,  colder  winter's  reign  ; 
Semblance  of  deeper,  soul  in  wailing,  pain  : 

For  well  this  world  I  know, 
That  it  is  very  wide,  and  full  of  woe. 
Cold,  cold  as  here  to-night,  'round  hearts  are  wailing 
Winds  of  dark  grief,  the  spirit's  features  paling, 
And  millions  walk  this  journey,  weary,  failing, 
Full  of  snow. 

God  knows  of  griefs  that  we  know  not,  alone, 
God  knows  of  nests  from  which  the  bird  is  flown — 

Of  hidden,  silent  woe, 
That  we  pass  by,  and  lose  in  life's  great  flow. 
God  sees  the  stricken  mourner's  secret  weeping ; 
God  sees  the  dark,  cold  shadow  silent  creeping 
O'er  hearts  that  cold  distrust,  or  hate,  is  heaping 
Full  of  snow. 

What  does  the  wide  world  know  of  real  life  ? 
Ours,  as  it  is,  an  inner,  silent  strife ; 

Of  thoughts  that  ever  flow 
Deep  in  the  secret  soul — what  does  it  know  ? 


284  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

In  each  soul's  realm  of  being  there's  an  ocean 
Ever  unknown  to  man,  and  yet  in  motion, 
Shoreless  and  deep,  with  storms  that  have  their  portion 
Full  of  snow. 

Green  vales  but  tremble  o'er  earth's  inner  groans, 
Daisies  bloom  white  above  the  battle's  bones  ; 

We  surface  gazers  do  not  know 
The  hidden  caves  the  ocean  laves  below. 
There  is  a  night  that  never  knows  a  breaking 
This  side  God's  heaven  ;  sun's  rise,  and  yet  no  waking ; 
Sleep  on  the  lids  of  joy,  and  moments  flaking 
Full  of  snow. 

Have  ye  not  felt  it  who  have  laid  God's  boon, 
The  loved  and  lovely,  in  the  tearless  tomb, 

Whom  God  has  made,  that  every  hour  to  know 
When  from  its  resting-place  the  bird  must  go  ? 
Have  ye  not  felt  it  who  alone  are  treading 
Paths  on  which  love  no  light  is  longer  shedding, 
Which  dire  desertion,  day  and  night,  is  spreading 
Full  of  snow  ? 

See !  as  I  linger  here,  the  clouds  droop  nigh, 
Winds,  storm,  and  night  rush  howling  from  the  sky ; 

Hopeful,  though  sad,  O  God,  to  thee  I  go, 
For  thou  art  God  of  spring  as  well  as  snow. 
I  know  the  time  is  short ;  if  we  are  steady, 
A  home  beyond  Time's  falling  flakes  is  ready, 
Where  o'er  the  vales,  around  God's  feet,  shall  eddy- 
No  more  snow. 


LABOR. 

Mrs.  Frances  S.  Osgood, 
Pause  not  to  dream  of  the  future  before  us, 
Pause  not  to  weep  the  wild  cares  that  come  o'er  us : 
Hark  how  Creation's  deep  musical  chorus 

Unintermitting  goes  up  into  heaven ! 
Never  the  ocean-wave  stops  in  its  flowing ; 
Never  the  little  seed  stops  in  its  growing  ; 
More  and  more  richly  the  rose-heart  keeps  glowing 

Till  from  its  nourishing  stem  it  is  riven. 

"  Labor  is  worship  !"  the  robin  is  singing : 
"  Labor  is  worship !"  the  wild  bee  is  ringing  : 
Listen  !  that  eloquent  whisper  upspringing 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  285 

Speaks  to  thy  soul  from  out  nature's  great  heart. 
From  the  dark  cloud  flows  the  life-giving  shower ; 
From  the  rough  sod  blows  the  soft-breathing  flower ; 
From  the  small  insect  the  rich  coral  bower ; 

Only  man,  in  the  plan,  ever  shrinks  from  his  part. 
Labor  is  life !     'Tis  the  still  water  faileth  ; 
Idleness  ever  despaireth,  bewaileth  ; 
Keep  the  watch  wound,  for  the  dark  rust  assaileth ; 

Flowers  droop  and  die  in  the  stillness  of  noon. 
Labor  is  glory !  the  flying  cloud  lightens  ; 
Only  the  waving  wing  changes  and  brightens  ; 
Idle  hearts  only  the  dark  future  frightens : 

Play  the  sweet  keys  wouldst  thou  keep  them  in  tune  I 
Labor  is  rest  from  the  sorrows  that  greet  us ; 
Rest  from  all  petty  vexations  that  meet  us ; 
Rest  from  the  sin-promptings  that  ever  entreat  us ; 

Rest  from  the  world-sirens  that  lure  us  to  ill. 
*  Work — and  pure  slumbers  shall  wait  on  thy  pillow ; 
Work — thou  shalt  ride  over  care's  coming  billow. 
Lie  not  down  wearied  'neath  woe's  weeping  willow ! 

Work  with  a  stout  heart  and  resolute  will. 

Labor  is  health !     Lo !  the  husbandman  reaping, 
How  through  his  veins  goes  the  life-current  leaping ! 
How  his  strong  arm,  in  its  stalwart  pride  sweeping, 

True  as  a  sunbeam  the  swift  sickle  guides ! 
Labor  is  wealth — in  the  sea  the  pearl  groweth ; 
Rich  the  queen's  robe  from  the  frail  cocoon  floweth  ; 
From  the  fine  acorn  the  strong  forest  bloweth ; 

Temple  and  statue  the  marble  block  hides. 

Droop  not,  though  shame,  sin,  and  anguish  are  round  thee; 
Bravely  fling  off  the  cold  chain  that  hath  bound  thee ; 
Look  to  yon  pure  heaven  smiling  beyond  thee  ; 

Rest  not  content  in  thy  darkness — a  clod ! 
Work  for  some  good,  be  it  ever  so  slowly ! 
Cherish  some  flower,  be  it  ever  so  lowly ; 
Labor — all  labor  is  noble  and  holy ; 

Let  thy  great  deeds  be  thy  prayer  to  thy  God. 


GETHSEMANE. 

E.  Clementine  Howarth. 
I  think,  could  I  behold  the  bowers 

Where  my  Redeemer  bent  the  knee, 
And  breathe  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers 
Of  sanctified  Gethsem'ane, 


286  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

And  with  my  sinful  lips  once  press 
The  turf  on  which  my  Savior  trod, 

Anointed  thus,  then  could  they  bless, 
And  praise,  and  serve  thee,  O  my  God. 

I  know  not  if  the  Kedron  brook 

Doth  water  still  the  solemn  glade, 
Nor  if  it  bears  aught  of  the  look 

It  bore  when  there  our  Savior  prayed ; 
But,  though  the  Kedron  floweth  not, 

And  thou  art  bare  of  flower  or  tree, 
To  me  thou  art  earth's  holiest  spot, 

Oh  sanctified  Gethsemane ! 

There  is  a  sad  and  soothing  charm 

Even  in  thy  name,  oh  sacred  earth, 
That  stills  like  drop  of  magic  balm, 

The  turbid  waves  of  passion's  birth  ; 
And  thou  hast  ever  power  to  set 

My  captive  heart  from  fetters  free ; 
I  only  sin  when  I  forget 

The  sorrows  of  Gethsemane. 

'Tis  said  that  eveiy  earthly  sound 

Goes  trembling  through  the  voiceless  spheres, 
Bearing  its  endless  echoes  round 

The  pathway,  of  eternal  years. 
Ah !  surely,  then,  the  sighs  that  He 

That  midnight  breathed,  the  zephyrs  bore     ■ 
From  thy  dim  shades,  Gethsemane, 

To  thrill  the  world  for  evermore. 

I  know  not,  but  I  fain  would  trace 

O'er  burning  deserts  long  and  wide, 
That  I  might  look  upon  the  place 

Where  my  Redeemer  lived  and  died  ; 
And  fallen  tower  and  broken  wall 

Of  his  loved  city  I  would  see, 
And  thou,  the  holiest  spot  of  all, 

Oh  sanctified  Gethsemane ! 


A  BALLAD  OF  SIR  JOHN  FRANKLIN. 

George  H.  Bokeb. 
"Oh  whither  sail  you,  Sir  John  Franklin  ?" 

Cried  a  whaler  in  Baffin's  Bay. 
"  To  know  if  between  the  land  and  the  pole 
I  may  find  a  broad  sea-way." 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  287 

"  I  charge  you  back,  Sir  John  Franklin, 

If  you  would  live  and  thrive ; 
For  between  the  land  and  the  frozen  pole 

No  man  may  sail  alive." 

But  lightly  laughed  the  stout  Sir  John, 

And  spoke  unto  his  men  : 
"  Half  England  is  wrong  if  he  is  right ; 

Bear  oft*  to  westward,  then !" 

"Oh  whither  sail  you,  brave  Englishman  ?" 

Cried  the  little  Esquimaux. 
"Between  your  land  and  the  polar  star 

My  goodly  vessels  go." 

"  Come  down,  if  you  would  journey  there," 

The  little  Indian  said, 
"And  change  your  cloth  for  fur  clothing, 

Your  vessel  for  a  sled. " 

But  lightly  laughed  the  stout  Sir  John, 

And  the  crew  laughed  with  him  too ; 
"A  sailor  to  change  from  ship  to  sled 

I  ween  were  something  new !" 

All  through  the  long,  long  polar  day 

The  vessels  westward  sped, 
And  wherever  the  sail  of  Sir  John  was  blown, 

The  ice  gave  way  and  fled — 

Gave  way  with  many  a  hollow  groan, 

And  many  a  surly  roar, 
But  it  murmured  and  threatened  on  every  side, 

And  closed  where  he  sailed  before. 

"  Ho !  see  ye  not,  my  merry  men, 

The  broad  and  open  sea  ? 
Bethink  ye  what  the  whaler  said — 
Think  of  the  little  Indian's  sled !" 

The  crew  laughed  out  in  glee. 

"  Sir  John !  Sir  John !  'tis  bitter  cold ; 

The  scud  drives  on  the  breeze ; 
The  ice  comes  looming  from  the  north ; 

The  very  sunbeams  freeze  !" 

The  drifting  icebergs  dipped  and  rose, 

And  floundered  down  the  gale  5 
The  ships  were  stayed,  the  yardfc  were  Planned 

And  furled  the  useless  sail. 


288  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

"The  summer's  gone,  the  winter's  come, 

We  sail  not  on  yonder  sea ; 
Why  sail  we  not,  Sir  John  Franklin  .?" 

A  silent  man  was  he. 

The  cruel  ice  came  floating  on, 

And  closed  beneath  the  lee 
Till  the  thickening  waters  dashed  no  more— 
'Twas  ice  around,  behind,  before — 

"  My  God !  there  is  no  sea  !" 

"  What  think  you  of  the  whaler  now  ? 

What  of  the  Esquimaux  ? 
A  sled  were  better  than  a  ship 

To  cruise  through  ice  and  snow." 

The  snow  came  down,  storm  breeding  storm, 

And  on  the  decks  was  laid, 
Till  the  weary  sailor,  sick  at  heart, 

Sank  down  beside  his  spade. 

"  Sir  John,  the  night  is  black  and  long, 

The  hissing  wind  is  bleak ; 
The  hard,  green  ice  is  strong  as  death ; 

I  pr'ythee,  captain,  speak !" 

"The  night  is  neither  bright  nor  short ; 

The  stinging  breeze  is  cold  ; 
The  ice  is  not  so  strong  as  hope ! 

The  heart  of  man  is  bold!" 
*  *  *  *  *  0 

"     "  Hark !  heard  ye  not  the  noise  of  guns  ? 
And  there — there — there  again  ! 
/Tis  some  uneasy  iceberg's  roar 
As  he  turns  in  the  frozen  main." 

"  Sir  John,  where  are  the  English  fields, 
And  where  are  the  English  trees  ? 

And  where  are  the  little  English  flowers 
That  open  to  the  breeze?" 

"  Be  still,  be  still,  my  brave  sailors ! 

You  shall  see  the  fields  again, 
And  smell  the  scent  of  the  opening  flowers-— 

"But  when,  Sir  John  ;  but  when ?" 

"Oh  when  shall  I  see  my  orphan  child — 
My  Mary  that  waits  for  me  ? 

Oh  when  shall  I  see  my  old  mother, 
And  pray  at  her  trembling  knee  ?" 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  289 

"  Be  still,  be  still,  my  brave  sailors ! 

Think  not  such  thoughts  again!" 
But  a  tear  froze  slowly  on  his  cheek — 

He  thought  of  Lady  Jane. 
Ah !  bitter,  bitter  grows  the  cold ; 

The  ice  grows  more  and  more  ; 
More  settled  stare  the  wolf  and  bear — 

More  patient  than  before. 
"Oh  think  you,  good  Sir  John  Franklin, 

We'll  ever  see  the  land  ? 
'Twas  cruel  to  send  us  here  to  starve, 

Without  a  helping  hand ! 
"  'Twas  cruel,  Sir  John,  to  send  us  here, 

So  far  from  help  and  home, 
To  starve  and  freeze  on  this  lonely  sea ! 
I  ween  the  Lords  of  the  Admiralty 

Would  rather  send  than  come." 

"Oh,  whether  we  starve  to  death  alone, 

Or  sail  to  our  own  country, 
We  have  done  what  man  has  never  done : 
The  truth  is  found — the  secret  won — 

We  passed  the  northern  sea !" 
****** 
Long  years  went  by.     Hope  died  in  fear, 

But  never  relented  the  frost. 
Some  letters  that  stood  for  the  brave  and  dear, 
And  some  oars  and  bones  told  the  story  drear — 

Then  we  knew  what  the  secret  cost ! 


THE  KING  OF  DENMARK'S  RIDE. 

Mrs.  Caroline  Norton. 

Word  was  brought  to  the  Danish  king 

(Hurry!) 
That  the  love  of  his  heart  lay  suffering, 
And  pined  for  the  comfort  his  voice  would  bring. 

(Oh  ride  as  if  you  were  flying !) 
Better  he  loves  each  golden  curl 
On  the  brow  of  that  Scandinavian  girl 
Than  his  rich  crown-jewels  of  ruby  and  pearl ; 

And  his  Rose  of  the  Isles  is  dying. 
Thirty  nobles  saddled  with  speed ; 

(Hurry!) 
Each  one  mounted  a  gallant  steed 
Which  he  kept  for  battle  and  davs  of  need ; 

N 


290  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

(Oh  ride  as  though  you  were  flying!) 
Spurs  were  struck  in  the  foaming  flank, 
Worn-out  chargers  staggered  and  sank  ; 
Bridles  were  slackened,  and  girths  were  burst ; 
But,  ride  as  they  would,  the  king  rode  first, 

For  his  Kose  of  the  Isles  lay  dying. 

His  nobles  are  beaten  one  by  one ;  • 

(Hurry!) 
They  have  fainted,  and  faltered,  and  homeward  gonej 
The  little  fair  page  now  follows  alone. 

For  strength  and  for  courage  trying, 
The  king  looked  back  at  that  faithful  child, 
Wan  was  the  face  that  answering  smiled. 
They  passed  the  drawbridge  with  clattering  din, 
Then  he  dropped,  and  only  the  king  rode  in 

Where  his  Rose  of  the  Isles  lay  dying. 

The  king  blew  a  blast  on  his  bugle-horn : 

(Silence!) 
No  answer  came,  but  faint  and  forlorn 
An  echo  returned  on  the  cold  gray  morn, 

Like  the  breath  of  a  spirit  sighing. 
The  castle  portal  stood  grimly  wide ; 
None  welcomed  the  king  from  that  weary  ride ; 
For,  dead  in  the  light  of  the  dawning  day, 
The  pale,  sweet  form  of  the  welcomer  lay, 

Who  had  yearned  for  his  voice  while  dying. 

The  panting  steed  with  a  drooping  crest 

Stood  weary ; 
The  king  returned  from  the  chamber  of  rest, 
The  thick  sobs  choking  in  his  breast, 

And  that  dumb  companion  eying, 
The  tears  gushed  forth  which  he  strove  to  check ; 
He  bowed  his  head  on  his  charger's  neck  : 
M  Oh  steed,  that  every  nerve  didst  strain — 
Dear  steed !  our  ride  hath  been  in  vain 

To  the  halls  where  my  love  lay  dying !" 


OVER  THE  RIVER. 

Miss  Priest. 
Over  the  river  they  beckon  to  me — 

Loved  ones  who've  crossed  to  the  farther  side ; 
The  gleam  of  their  snowy  robes  I  see, 
But  their  voices  are  drowned  in  the  rushing  tide. 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  291 

There's  one  with  ringlets  of  sunny  gold, 

And  eyes  the  reflection  of  heaven's  own  blue ; 
He  crossed  in  the  twilight  gray  and  cold, 

And  the  pale  mist  hid  him  from  mortal  view. 
We  saw  not  the  angels  who  met  him  there ; 

The  gates  of  the  city  we  could  not  see  : 
Over  the  river,'  over  the  river, 

My  brother  stands  ready  to  welcome  me  I 

Over  the  river  the  boatman  pale 

Carried  another — the  household  pet : 
Her  brown  curls  waved  in  the  gentle  gale — 

Darling  Minnie !  I  see  her  yet. 
She  crossed  on  her  bosom  her  dimpled  hands, 

And  fearlessly  entered  the  phantom  bark ; 
We  watched  it  glide  from  the  silver  sands, 

And  all  our  sunshine  grew  strangely  dark. 
We  know  she  is  safe  en  the  farther  side, 

Where  all  the  ransomed  and  angels  be : 
Over  the  river,  the  mystic  river, 

My  childhood's  idol  is  waiting  for  me. 

For  none  return  from  those  quiet  shores 

Who  cross  with  the  boatman  cold  and  pale  • 
We  hear  the  dip  of  the  golden  oars, 

And  catch  a  gleam  of  the  snowy  sail, 
And  lo !  they  have  passed  from  our  yearning  heart ; 

They  cross  the  stream,  and  are  gone  for  aye ; 
We  may  not  -sunder  the  veil  apart 

That  hides  from  our  vision  the  gates  of  day. 
We  only  know  that  their  barks  no  more 

May  sail  with  us  o'er  life's  stormy  sea ; 
Yet  somewhere,  I  know,  on  the  unseen  shore 

They  watch,  and  beckon,  and  wait  for  me. 

And  I  sit  and  think,  when  the  sunset's  gold 

Is  flushing  river,  and  hill,  and  shore, 
I  shall  one  day  stand  by  the  water  cold, 

And  list  for  the  sound  of  the  boatman's  oar. 
I  shall  watch  for  a  gleam  of  the  flapping  sail ; 

I  shall  hear  the  boat  as  it  gains  the  strand ; 
I  shall  pass  from  sight  with  the  boatman  pale 

To  the  better  shore  of  the  spirit  land ; 
I  shall  know  the  loved  who  have  gone  before ; 

And  joyfully  sweet  will  the  meeting  be, 
When  over  the  river,  the  peaceful  river, 

The  Angel  cf  Death  shall  carry  me. 


292  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

YOUNG  LOCHINVAR. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 
Oh,  young  Lochinvar  is  come  out  of  the  West, 
Through  all  the  wide  Border  his  steed  was  the  best, 
And  save  his  good  broadsword  he  weapons  had  none ; 
He  rode  all  unarmed,  and  he  rode  all  alone. 
So  faithful  in  love,  and  so  dauntless  in  war, 
There  never  was  knight  like  the  young  Lochinvar. 

He  staid  not  for  brake,  and  he  stopped  not  for  stone, 

He  swam  the  Esk  River  where  ford  there  was  none ; 

But,  ere  he  alighted  at  Netherby  gate, 

The  bride  had  consented,  the  gallant  came  late : 

For  a  laggard  in  love  and  a  dastard  in  war 

Was  to  wed  the  fair  Ellen  of  brave  Lochinvar. 

So  boldly  he  entered  the  Netherby  hall, 
'Mong  bridemen,  and  kinsmen,  and  brothers,  and  all. 
Then  spoke  the  bride's  father,  his  hand  on  his  sword 
(For  the  poor  craven  bridegroom  said  never  a  word), 
"Oh  come  ye  in  peace  here,  or  come  ye  in  war, 
Or  to  dance  at  our  bridal,  young  Lord  Lochinvar  ?" 

"  I  long  wooed  your  daughter,  my  suit  you  denied; 
Love  swells  like  the  Sohvay,  but  ebbs  like  its  tide ; 
And  now  I  am  come,  with  this  lost  love  of  mine, 
To  lead  but  one  measure,  drink  one  cup  of  wine. 
There  be  maidens  in  Scotland  more  lovely  by  far, 
That  would  gladly  be  bride  to  the  young  Lochinvar. " 

The  bride  kissed  the  goblet ;  the  knight  took  it  up, 
He  quaffed  off  the  wine,  and  he  threw  down  the  cup ; 
She  looked  down  to  blush,  and  she  looked  up  to  sigh, 
With  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and  a  tear  in  her  eye. 
He  took  her  soft  hand  ere  her  mother  could  bar — 
"  Now  tread  we  a  measure !"  said  young  Lochinvar. 

So  stately  his  form,  and  so  lovely  her  face, 

That  never  a  hall  such  a  galliard  did  grace ; 

While  her  mother  did  fret,  and  her  father  did  fume, 

And  the  bridegroom  stood  dangling  his  bonnet  and  plume, 

And  the  bridemaidens  whispered, "  'Twere  better  by  far 

To  have  matched  our  fair  cousin  with  young  Lochinvar." 

One  touch  to  her  hand,  and  one  word  in  her  ear, 

When  they  reached  the  hall  door,  and  the  charger  stood  near, 

So  light  to  the  croup  the  fair  lady  he  swung, 

So  light  to  the  saddle  before  her  he  sprung— 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  293 

She  is  won !  we  are  gone,  over  bank,  bush,  and  scaur ; 
They'll  have  fleet  steeds  that  follow, "  quoth  young  Lochinvar. 
There  was  mounting  'mong  Graemes  of  the  Netherby  clan ; 
Fosters,  Fenwicks,  and  Musgraves,  they  rode  and  they  ran  ; 
There  was  racing  and  chasing  on  Cannobie  Lea, 
But  the  lost  bride  of  Netherby  ne'er  did  they  see. 
So  daring  in  love,  and  so  dauntless  in  war, 
Have  ye  e'er  heard  of  gallant  like  young  Lochinvar  ? 


THE  INQUIRY. 

Charles  Mackat. 
Tell  me,  ye  winged  winds, 

That  round  my  pathway  roar, 
Do  you  not  know  some  spot 

Where  mortals  weep  no  more  ? 
Some  lone  and  pleasant  dell — 

Some  valley  in  the  West, 
Where,  free  from  toil  and  pain, 
The  weary  soul  may  rest  ? 
(=*■)  The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low, 

And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered  (>)  "  No !" 

Tell  me,  thou  mighty  deep, 

Whose  billows  round  me  play, 
Knowest  thou  some  favored  spot — 

Some  island  far  away, 
Where  weary  man  may  find 

The  bliss  for  which  he  sighs 
Where  sorrow  never  lives, 

And  friendship  never  dies  ? 
The  loud  waves,  rolling  in  perpetual  flow, 
Stopped  for  a  while,  and  sighed  to  answer  (o)  "  No  \n 

And  thou,  serenest  moon, 

That  with  such  lovely  face 
Dost  look  upon  the  earth, 

Asleep  in  night's  embrace, 
Tell  me,  in  all  thy  round, 

Hast  thou  not  seen  some  spot 
Where  miserable  man 

Might  find  a  happier  lot 
Behind  a  cloud  the  moon  withdrew  in  woe, 
And  a  voice  sweet,  but  sad,  responded  "No!" 

Tell  me,  my  secret  soul — 
Oh  tell  me,  Hope  and  Faith, 


294  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

Is  there  no  resting-place 

From  sorrow,  sin,  and  death  ? 
Is  there  no  happy  spot 

Where  mortals  may  be  bless'd — 
Where  grief  may  find  a  balm, 
And  weariness  a  rest  ? 
Faith,  Hope,  and  Love — best  boons  to  mortals  given — 
Waved  their  bright  wings,  and  whispered  "  Yes,  in  heaven !" 


WOUNDED. 

J.  W.  Watson. 

Steady,  boys,  steady ! 

Keep  your  arms  ready ! 
God  only  knows  whom  we  may  meet  here. 

Don't  let  me  be  taken ! 

I'd  rather  awaken 
To-morrow  in — no  matter  where, 
Than  lie  in  that  foul  prison-hole — over  there. 

Step  slowly ! 
Speak  lowly ! 

These  rocks  may  have  life. 

Lay  me  down  in  this  hollow ; 

We  are  out  of  the  strife. 
By  heavens !  the  foeman  may  track  me  in  blood, 
For  this  hole  in  my  breast  is  outpouring  a  flood. 
No !  no  surgeon  for  me :  he  can  give  me  no  aid ; 
The  surgeon  I  want  is  a  pickaxe  and  spade. 
What,  Morris,  a  tear  ?  why,  shame  on  ye,  man ! 
I  thought  you  a  hero ;  but  since  you've  began 
To  whimper  and  cry,  like  a  girl  in  her  teens, 
By  George !  I  don't  know  what  it  all  means. 

Well !  well !  I  am  rough ;  'tis  a  very  rough  school, 
This  life  of  a  trooper — but  yet  I'm  no  fool ! 
I  know  a  brave  man,  and  a  friend  from  a  foe ; 
And,  boys,  that  you  love  me,  I  certainly  know. 

But  wasn't  it  grand, 
When  they  came  down  the  hill  over  sloughing  and  sand  f 
But  we  stood — did  we  not — like  immovable  rock, 
Unheeding  their  balls  and  repelling  their  shock  ? 

Did  you  mind  the  loud  ciy, 

When,  as  turning  to  fly, 
Our  men  sprang  upon  them,  determined  to  die  ? 

Oh,  wasn't  it  grand  ? 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  295 

God  help  the  poor  wretches  that  fell  in  the  fight ; 

No  time  was  there  given  for  prayer  or  for  flight.  ^ 

They  fell  by  the  score,  in  the  crash,  hand  to  hand, 

And  they  mingled  their  blood  with  the  sloughing  and  sand. 

Huzza ! 
Great  heavens  !  this  bullet-hole  gapes  like  a  grave. 
A  curse  on  the  aim  of  the  treacherous  knave ! 
Is  there  never  a  one  of  ye  knows  how  to  pray, 
Or  speak  for  a  man  as  his  life  ebbs  away  ? 
Tray! 

Pray! 
Our  Father !     Our  Father !     Why  don't  you  proceed  ? 
Can't  you  see  I  am  dying  ?    Great  God,  how  I  bleed ! 
Ebbing  away ! 

Ebbing  away ! 

The  light  of  day 
Is  turning  to  gray. 
Pray! 

Pray! 
Our  Father  in  Heaven — boys,  tell  me  the  rest, 
While  I  stanch  the  hot  blood  from  this  hole  in  my  breast. 
There's  something  about  forgiveness  of  sin — 
Put  that  in !  put  that  in !  and  then 
I'll  follow  your  words,  and  say  an  amen. 

Here,  Morris,  old  fellow!  get  hold  of  my  hand ; 

And  Wilson,  my  comrade — oh,  wasn't  it  grand, 

When  they  came  down  the  hill  like  a  thunder-charged  cloud, 

And  were  scattered  like  dust  by  our  brave  little  crowd  ? — 

Where's  Wilson — my  comrade — here,  stoop  down  your  head — 

Can't  you  say  a  short  prayer  for  the  dying  and  dead  ? 

"Dear  Christ,  who  died  for  sinners  all, 

Hear  thou  this  suppliant  wanderer's  cry ; 
Let  not  e'en  this  poor  sparrow  fall 

Unheeded  by  thy  gracious  eye. 
Throw  wide  thy  gates  to  let  him  in, 

And  take  him,  pleading,  to  thy  arms ; 
Forgive,  O  Lord !  his  life-long  sin, 

And  quiet  all  his  fierce  alarms. " 

God  bless  you,  comrade,  for  singing  that  hymn ; 
It  is  light  to  my  path  when  my  sight  has  grown  dim. 
I  am  dying — bend  down  till  I  touch  you  once  more — 
Don't  forget  me,  old  fellow !     God  prosper  this  war ! 
Confusion  to  enemies ! — keep  hold  of  my  hand — 
And  float  our  dear  flag  o'er  a  prosperous  land ! 


296  MANUAL   OP   READING. 


WE  MEET  AND  WE  PART. 

Prom  "The  Mystic  Star." 

There's  a  world  where  all  are  equal — 

We  are  hurrying  toward  it  fast — 
We  shall  meet  upon  the  level  there 

When  the  gates  of  death  are  pass'd. 
We  shall  stand  before  the  Orient, 

And  our  Master  will  be  there, 
To  try  the  blocks  we  offer 

By  his  own  unerring  square. 
We  shall  meet  upon  the  level  there, 

But  never  thence  depart ; 
There's  a  mansion — 'tis  all  ready — 

Por  each  faithful,  trusting  heart. 
There's  a  mansion  and  a  welcome ; 

And  a  multitude  are  there 
Who  have  met  upon  the  level 

And  been  tried  upon  the  square. 
Let  us  meet  upon  the  level,  then, 

While  laboring  patient  here ; 
Let  us  meet  and  let  us  labor, 

Though  the  labor  be  severe. 
Already,  in  the  western  sky, 

The  signs  bid  us  prepare 
To  gather  up  our  working-tools 

And  part  upon  the  square. 


BABY  BUNK 

Josie  H. 
Winsome  Baby  Bunn ! 
Brighter  than  the  stars  that  rise 
In  the  dusky  evening  skies  ; 
Browner  than  the  robin's  wing, 
Clearer  than  the  woodland  spring, 
Are  the  eyes  of  Baby  Bunn — 
Winsome  Baby  Bunn ! 

Smile,  mother,  smile ! 
Thinking  softly  all  the  while 

Of  a  tender,  blissful  day, 
When  the  dark  eyes,  so  like  these 
Of  the  cherub  on  your  knees, 

Stole  your  girlish  heart  away. 
Oh,  the  eyes  of  Baby  Bunn ! 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  297 

Rarest  mischief  will  they  do 
When  once  old  enough  to  steal 
What  their  father  stole  from  you ! 
Smile,  mother,  smile ! 

Winsome  Baby  Bunn ! 
Milk-white  lilies  half  unrolled, 
Set  in  calyces  of  gold, 
Can  not  make  his  forehead  fair, 
With  its  rings  of  yellow  hair ! 
Scarlet  berry,  cleft  in  twain 
By  a  wedge  of  pearly  grain, 
Is  the  mouth  of  Baby  Bunn — 
Winsome  Baby  Bunn ! 
Weep,  mother,  weep 
For  the  little  one  asleep 

With  his  head  against  your  breast ! 
Never  in  the  coming  years, 
Though  he  seeks  for  it  with  tears, 

Will  he  find  so  sweet  a  rest. 
*  Oh,  the  breath  of  Baby  Bunn ! 
Oh,  the  scarlet  mouth  of  Bunn ! 
One  man  wears  its  crown  of  thorns  ; 
Drink  its  cup  of  gall  must  one ! 
Though  the  trembling  lips  shall  shrink, 
White  with  anguish,  as  they  drink, 
And  the  temple  sweat  with  pain 
Drops  of  blood,  like  purple  rain — 
,       Weep,  mother,  weep ! 
Winsome  Baby  Bunn ! 
Not  the  sea- shell's  palest  tinge, 
Not  the  daisy's  rose-white  fringe, 
-Not  the  softest,  faintest  glow 
Of  the  sunset  on  the  snow, 
Is  more  beautiful  and  sweet 
Than  the  wee  pink  hands  and  feet 
Of  the  little  Baby  Bunn— 

Winsome  Baby  Bunn ! 
Feet  like  these  may  lose  the  way, 

Wandering  blindly  from  the  right ; 
Pray,  and  sometimes  will  your  prayers 
Be  to  him  like  golden  stairs 

Built  through  darkness  into  light. 
Oh,  the  dimpled  feet  of  Bunn, 

In  their  silken  stockings  dressed ! 
Oh,  the  dainty  hands  of  Bunn, 

Hid  like  rose-leaves  in  your  breast ! 
IST2 


298  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

These  will  grasp  at  jewels  rare, 
But  to  find  them  empty  air ; 
Those  will  wander  on  the  way — 
Pray,  mother,  pray ! 


DRIFTING. 

T.  B.  Read. 

My  soul  to-day 

Is  far  away, 
Sailing  the  Vesuvian  Bay ; 

My  winged  boat — 

A  bird  afloat — 
Swims  round  the  purple  peaks  remote. 

Round  purple  peaks 

It  sails,  and  seeks 
Blue  inlets  and  their  crystal  creeks, 

Where  high  rocks  throw 

Through  deeps  below 
A  duplicated  golden  glow. 

Far,  vague,  and  dim 
The  mountains  swim, 

While  on  Vesuvius's  misty  brim 
With  outstretched  handi 
The  gray  smoke  stands, 

O'erlooking  the  volcanic  lands. 

Here  Ischia  smiles 

O'er  liquid  miles ;  * 
And  yonder,  bluest  of  the  isles, 

Calm  Capri  waits, 

Her  sapphire  gates 
Beguiling  to  her  bright  estates. 

I  heed  not  if 

My  rippling  skiff 
Float  swift  or  slow  from  cliff  to  cliff; 

With  dreamful  eyes 

My  spirit  lies 
Under  the  walls  of  Paradise. 

Under  the  walls 

Where  swells  and  falls 
The  bay's  deep  breast  at  intervals, 

At  peace  I  lie, 

Blown  softly  by 
A  cloud  upon  this  liquid  sky. 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  299 

The  day  so  mild 

Is  Heaven's  own  child, 
With  Earth  and  Ocean  reconciled ; 

The  airs  I  feel 

Around  me  steal 
Are  murmuring  to  the  murmuring  keel. 

Over  the  rail 

My  hand  I  trail 
Within  the  shadow  of  the  sail ; 

A  joy  intense — 

The  cooling  sense — 
Glides  down  my  drowsy  indolence. 

With  dreamful  eyes 

My  spirit  lies 
Where  summer  sings  and  never  dies ; 

O'erveiled  with  vines, 

She  glows  and  shines 
Among  her  future  oils  and  wines. 

Her  children  hid 

The  cliffs  amid, 
Are  gamboling  with  the  gamboling  kid, 

Or  down  the  walls, 

With  tipsy  calls, 
Laugh  on  the  rocks  like  waterfalls. 

The  fisher's  child, 

With  tresses  wild, 
Unto  the  smooth,  bright  sand  beguiled, 

With  glowing  lips 

Sings  as  she  skips, 
Or  gazes  at  the  far-off  ship's. 

Yon  deep  bark  goes 

Where  Traffic  blows 
From  lands  of  sun  to  lands  of  snows ; 

This  happier  one 

Its  course  is  run 
From  lands  of  snow  to  lands  of  sun. 

Oh  happy  ship, 

To  rise  and  dip 
With  the  blue  crystal  at  your  lip ! 

Oh  happy  crew, 

My  heart  with  you 
Sails  and  sails,  and  sings  anew ! 


300  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

No  more,  no  more 

The  worldly  shore 
Upbraids  me  with  its  loud  uproar ; 

With  dreamful  eyes 

My  spirit  lies 
Under  the  walls  of  Paradise. 


TO  A  MOUSE, 

ON  TURNING  UP  HER  NEST  WITH  THE  PLOW, 

November,  1785. 

Robert  Burn& 
Wee,  sleekit,  cow'rin',  tim'rous  beastie, 
Oh  what  a  panic's  in  thy  breastie ! 
Thou  need  na  start  awa  sae  hasty, 

Wi'  bickering  brattle ; 

I  wad  be  laith  to  rin  and  chase  thee 

Wi'  murd'ring  pattle ! 

I'm  truly  sorry  man's  dominion 
Has  broken  nature's  social  union, 
And  justifies  that  ill  opinion 

Which  makes  thee  startle 
At  me,  thy  poor  earth-born  companion, 

And  fellow-mortal ! 

I  doubt  na,  whyles,  but  thou  may  thieve ; 
What  then?  poor  beastie,  thou  maun  live! 
A  daimen  icker  in  a  thrave 

'S  a  sma'  request : 
I'll  get  a  blessin'  wi'  the  laive, 

And  never  miss't ! 

Thy  wee  bit  housie,  too,  in  ruin, 
Its  silly  wa's  the  win's  are  strewin', 
And  naething  now  to  big  a  new  ane 

O'  foggage  green, 
And  bleak  December's  winds  ensuin', 

Baith  snell  and  keen. 

Thou  saw  the  fields  laid  bare  and  waste, 
And  weary  winter  comin'  fast, 
And  cozie  here,  beneath  the  blast, 

Thou  thought  to  dwell, 
Till,  crash !  the  cruel  coulter  passed 

Out  through  thy  cell. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  301 

That  wee  bit  heap  o'  leaves  and  stibble 
Has  cost  thee  mony  a  weary  nibble ! 
Now  thou's  turned  out,  for  a'  thy  trouble, 

But  house  or  hald, 
To  thole  the  winter's  sleety  dribble, 

And  cranreuch  cauld ! 

But,  Mousie,  thou  art  no  thy  lane, 
In  proving  foresight  may  be  vain : 
The  best-laid  schemes  o'  mice  and  men 

Gang  aft  a-gley, . 
And  lea'e  us  nought  but  grief  and  pain 

For  promised  joy. 

Still  thou  art  bless'd  compared  wi'  me ; 
The  present  only  toucheth  thee ; 
But,  och !  I  backward  cast  my  ee 

On  prospects  drear ; 
And  forward,  though  I  canna  see, 

I  guess  and  fear. 


THE  MISER'S  DEATH. 

Osborne. 

Note. — In  France,  during  the  year  1762,  a  miser  by  the  name  of  Foscue, 
having  amassed  enormous  wealth  by  extortion  and  parsimony,  was  request- 
ed by  the  government  to  advance  a  sum  of  money  as  a  loan.  The  miser  re- 
fused, pretending  that  he  was  poor.  In  order  to  hide  his  money,  he  dug  a 
deep  cellar  under  his  hut,  the  descent  to  which  was  by  a  ladder.  To  the 
trap-door  above  he  attached  a  spring-lock.  He  entered,  one  day,  to  gloat 
over  his  gold ;  the  trap-door  fell,  the  spring-lock  snapped,  and  he  died  mis- 
erably. 

So,  so !  all  safe !     Come  forth,  my  pretty  sparklers ! 

Come  forth,  and  feast  my  eyes !    Be  not  afraid ! 

No  keen-eyed  agent  of  the  government 

Can  see  you  here.     They  wanted  me,  forsooth, 

To  lend  you,  at  the  lawful  rate  of  usance, 

For  the  state's  needs.     Ha!  ha!  my  shining  pets, 

My  yellow  darlings,  my  sweet  golden  circlets ! 

Too  well  I  loved  you  to  do  that ;  and  so 

I  pleaded  poverty,  and  none  could  prove 

My  story  was  not  true. 

Ha !  could  they  see 
These  bags  of  ducats,  and  that  precious  pile 
Of  ingots,  and  those  bars  of  solid  gold, 
Their  eyes,  methinks,  would  water.     What  a  comfort 


302  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

Is  it  to  see  my  moneys  in  a  heap, 

All  safely  lodged  under  my  very  roof! 

Here's  a  fat  bag— let  me  untie  the  mouth  of  it. 

What  eloquence !     What  beauty !     What  expression ! 

Could  Cicero  so  plead  ?     Could  Helen  look 

One  half  so  charming  ?     (  The  trap-door  falls.) 

Ah !  what  sound  was  that  ? 
The  trap-door  fallen  ?  and  the  spring-lock  caught  ? 
Well,  have  I  not  the  key  ?    Of  course  I  have ! 
'Tis  in  this  pocket.     No.     In  this?    No.     Then 
I  left  it  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder. 
Ha !  'tis  not  there.     Where,  then  ?    Ah !  mercy,  Heaven ! 
'Tis  in  the  lock  outside ! 

What's  to  be  done  ? 
Help,  help !    Will  no  one  hear  ?    Oh,  would  that  I 
Had  not  discharged  old  Simon !  but  he  begged 
Each  week  for  wages — would  not  give  me  credit. 
I'll  try  my  strength  upon  the  door.     Despair ! 
I  might  as  soon  uproot  the  eternal  rocks 
As  force  it  open.     Am  I  here  a  prisoner, 
And  no  one  in  the  house— no  one  at  hand, 
Or  likely  soon  to  be,  to  hear  my  cries  ? 
Am  I  entombed  alive  ?    Horrible  fate ! 
I  sink — I  faint  beneath  the  bare  conception !     (Swoons.) 

(Awakes.)    Darkness!    Where  am  I?    I  remember  now: 
This  is  a  bag  of  ducats — 'tis  no  dream — 
No  dream !     The  trap-door  fell,  and  here  am  I, 
Immured  with  my  dear  gold — my  candle  out — 
All  gloom — all  silence — all  despair !     What  ho ! 
Friends !     Friends  ?  I  have  no  friends.     What  right  have  I 
To  use  the  name  ?    These  money-bags  have  been 
The  only  friends  I've  cared  for,  and  for  these 
I've  toiled,  and  pinched,  and  screwed,  shutting  my  heart 
To  charity,  humanity,  and  love ! 

Detested  traitors !  since  I  gave  you  all — 
Ay,  gave  my  very  soul— can  ye  do  naught 
For  me  in  this  extremity?    Ho !  without  there! 
A  thousand  ducats  for  a  loaf  of  bread ! 
Ten  thousand  ducats  for  a  glass  of  water ! 
A  pile  of  ingots  for  a  helping  hand ! 
Was  that  a  laugh  ?    Ay,  'twas  a  fiend  that  laughed 
To  see  a  miser  in  the  grip  of  death ! 

Offended  Heaven,  have  mercy !     I  will  give 
In  alms  all  this  vile  rubbish  ;  aid  me  thou 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  303 

In  this  most  dreadful  strait !     I'll  build  a  church — 
A  hospital !     Vain,  vain !     Too  late,  too  late ! 
Heaven  knows  the  miser's  heart  too  well  to  trust  him ! 
Heaven  will  not  hear — why  should  it  ?     What  have  I 
Done  to  enlist  Heaven's  favor  ? — to  help  on 
Heaven's  cause  on  earth,  in  human  hearts  and  homes  ? 
Nothing!     God's  kingdom  will  not  come  the  sooner 
For  any  work  or  any  prayer  of  mine. 

But  must  I  die  here — in  my  own  trap  caught? 
Die — die  ?  and  then !     Oh  mercy !  grant  me  time — 
Thou  who  canst  save — grant  me  a  little  time, 
And  I'll  redeem  the  past — undo  the  evil 
That  I  have  done — make  thousands  happy  with 
This  hoarded  treasure — do  thy  will  on  earth 
As  it  is  done  in  heaven — grant  me  but  time ! 
Nor  man  nor  God  will  hear  my  shrieks !     All's  lost ! 


LITTLE  BENNY. 
A  Christmas  Carol. 

I  had  told  him  Christmas  morning, 

As  he  sat  upon  my  knee,   . 
Holding  fast  his  little  stockings, 

Stuffed  as  full  as  full  could  be, 
And  attentive,  listening  to  me, 

With  a  face  demure  and  mild, 
That  old  Santa  Claus,  who  filled  them, 

Did  not  love  a  naughty  child. 

"But  we'll  be  dood,  won't  we,  moder  ?" 

And  from  off  my  lap  he  slid, 
Digging  deep  among  the  goodies 

In  his  crimson  stockings  hid, 
While  I  turned  me  to  my  table, 

Where  a  tempting  goblet  stood, 
Brimming  high  with  dainty  custard 

Sent  me  by  a  neighbor  good. 

But  the  kitten,  there  before  me, 

With  his  white  paw,  nothing  loth, 
Sat,  by  way  of  entertainment, 

Slapping  off  the  shining  froth ; 
And,  in  not  the  gentlest  humor 

At  the  loss  of  such  a  treat, 
I  confess  I  rather  rudely 

Thrust  him  out  into  the  street. 


304  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

Then  how  Benny's  blue  eyes  kindled ! 

Gathering  up  the  precious  store 
He  had  busily  been  pouring 

In  his  tiny  pinafore, 
With  a  generous  look  that  shamed  me, 

Sprang  he  from  the  carpet  bright, 
Showing,  by  his  mien  indignant, 

All  a  baby's  sense  of  right. 

11  Come  back,  Harney !"  called  he,  loudly, 

As  he  held  his  apron  white, 
"  You  sail  have  my  candy  wabbit !" 

But  the  door  was  fastened  tight ; 
So  he  stood,  abashed  and  silent, 

In  the  centre  of  the  floor, 
With  defeated  look  alternate 

Bent  on  me  and  on  the  door. 

Then,  as  by  some  sudden  impulse, 

Quickly  ran  he  to  the  fire, 
And  while  eagerly  his  bright  eyes 

Watched  the  flames  grow  higher,  higher 
In  a  brave,  clear  key  he  shouted, 

Like  some  lordly  little  elf, 
" Santa  Kaus,  tome  down  de  chimney; 

Make  my  moder  'have  herself!" 

"  I  will  be  a  good  girl,  Benny, " 

Said  I,  feeling  the  reproof; 
And  straightway  recalled  poor  Harney, 

Mewing  on  the  gallery  roof. 
Soon  the  anger  was  forgotten, 

Laughter  chased  away  the  frown, 
And  they  gamboled  'neath  the  live-oaks 

Till  the  dusky  night  came  down. 

In  my  dim,  fire-lighted  chamber 

Harney  purred  beneath  my  chair, 
And  my  play-worn  boy  beside  me 

Knelt  to  say  his  evening  prayer : 
"  God  bess  fader,  God  bess  moder, 

God  bess  sister" — then  a  pause, 
And  the  sweet  young  lips  devoutly 

Murmured, "  God  bess  Santa  Kaus." 

He  is  sleeping ;  brown  and  silken 
Lie  the  lashes,  long  and  meek, 

Like  caressing,  clinging  shadows, 
On  his  plump  and  peachy  cheek ; 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  305 

And  I  bend  above  him,  weeping 

Thankful  tears,  O  Undefiled ! 
For  a  woman's  crown  of  glory — 

For  the  blessing  of  a  child. 


IVRY. 

Thomas  Babington  Macaulat. 
Now  glory  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  from  whom  all  glories  are ! 
And  glory  to  our  sovereign  liege,  King  Henry  of  Navarre' ! 
Now  let  there  be  the  merry  sound  of  music  and  of  dance 
Through  thy  corn-fields  green,  and  sunny  vines,  oh  pleasant  land  of  France ! 
And  thou,  RochSlle',  our  own  Rochelle,  proud  city  of  the  waters, 
Again  let  rapture  light  the  eyes  of  all  thy  murmuring  daughters  ; 
As  thou  wert  constant  in  our  ills,  be  joyous  in  our  joy, 
For  cold,  and  stiff,  and  still  are  they  who  wrought  thy  walls  annoy. 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  a  single  field  hath  turned  the  chance  of  war ! 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  for  Ivry,  and  Henry  of  Navarre. 
Oh !  how  our  hearts  were  beating  when,  at  the  dawn  of  day, 
We  saw  the  army  of  the  League  drawn  out  in  long  array, 
With  all  its  priest-led  citizens,  and  all  its  rebel  peers, 
And  Appenzel's  stout  infantry,  and  Egmont's  Flemish  spears. 
There  rode  the  brood  of  false  Lorraine',  the  curses  of  our  land ; 
And  dark  Mayenne'  was  in  the  midst,  a  truncheon  in  his  hand  ; 
And,  as  we  looked  on  them,  we  thought  of  Seine's  empurpled  flood, 
And  good  Coligni's  hoary  hair  all  dabbled  with  his  blood  ; 
And  we  cried  unto  the  living  God,  who  rules  the  fate  of  war, 
To  fight  for  his  own  holy  name,  and  Henry  of  Navarre. 

The  king  is  come  to  marshal  us,  in  all  his  armor  dressed, 

And  he  has  bound  a  snow-white  plume  upon  his  gallant  crest. 

He  looked  upon  his  people,  and  a  tear  was  in  his  eye ; 

He  looked  upon  the  traitors,  and  his  glance  was  stern  and  high. 

Right  graciously  he  smiled  on  us,  as  rolled  from  wing  to  wing, 

Down  all  our  line,  a  deafening  shout — "God  save  our  lord  the  king!" 

"And  if  my  standard-bearer  fall,  as  fall  full  well  he  may — 

For  never  I  saw  promise  yet  of  such  a  bloody  fray — 

Press  where  ye  see  my  white  plume  shine  amidst  the  ranks  of  war, 

And  be  your  oriflamme  to-day  the  helmet  of  Navarre." 

Hurrah !  the  foes  are  moving.     Hark  to  the  mingled  din 

Of  fife,  and  steed,  and  trump,  and  drum,  and  roaring  culverin. 

The  fiery  duke  is  pricking  fast  across  Saint  Andre's  plain, 

With  all  the  hireling  chivalry  of  GueTders  and  Almayne'. 

Now  by  the  lips  of  those  ye  love,  fair  gentlemen  of  France, 

Charge  for  the  golden  lilies — upon  them  with  the  lance ! 

A  thousand  spurs  are  striking  deep,  a  thousand  spears  in  rest, 

A  thousand  knights  are  pressing  close  behind  the  snow-white  crest ; 


306  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

And  in  they  burst,  and  on  they  rushed,  while,  like  a  guiding  star, 
Amidst  the  thickest  carnage  blazed  the  helmet  of  Navarre. 
Now,  God  be  praised,  the  day  is  ours  :  Mayenne  hath  turned  his  rein  ; 
D'Aumale  hath  cried  for  quarter,  the  Flemish  count  is  slain  ; 
Their  ranks  are  breaking  like  thin  clouds  before  a  Biscay  gale ; 
The  field  is  heaped  with  bleeding  steeds,  and  flags,  and  cloven  mail. 
And  then  we  thought  on  vengeance,  and  all  along  our  van, 
''Remember  Saint  Bartholomew!"  was  passed  from  man  to  man. 
But  out  spake  gentle  Henry  :  "  No  Frenchman  is  my  foe ; 
Down — down  with  every  foreigner,  but  let  your  brethren  go." 
Oh !  was  there  ever  such  a  knight,  in  friendship  or  in  war, 
As  our  sovereign  lord,  King  Henry,  the  soldier  of  Navarre  ? 

Right  well  fought  all  the  Frenchmen  who  fought  for  France  to-day, 

And  many  a  lordly  banner  God  gave  them  for  a  prey. 

But  we  of  the  religion  have  borne  us  best  in  fight ; 

And  the  good  Lord  of  Ros'ny  hath  ta'en  the  cornet  white — 

Our  own  true  Maximilian  the  cornet  white  hath  ta'en, 

The  cornet  white,  with  crosses  black,  the  flag  of  false  Lorraine. 

Up  with  it  high  ;  unfurl  it  wide,  that  all  the  host  may  know  [woe. 

How  God  hath  humbled  the  proud  house  which  wrought  his  church  such 

Then  on  the  ground,  while  trumpets  sound  their  loudest  point  of  war, 

Fling  the  red  shreds,  a  footcloth  meet  for  Henry  of  Navarre. 

Ho !  maidens  of  ViSn'na  ;  ho !  matrons  of  Lucerne' — 

Weep,  weep,  and  rend  your  hair  for  those  who  never  shall  return. 

Ho !  Philip,  send,  for  charity,  thy  Mexican  pistoles, 

That  Antwerp  monks  may  sing  a  mass  for  thy  poor  spearmen's  souls. 

Ho !  gallant  nobles  of  the  League,  look  that  your  arms  be  bright ; 

Ho !  burghers  of  St.  Genevieve,  keep  watch  and  ward  to-night ; 

For  our  God  hath  crushed  the  tyrant,  our  God  hath  raised  the  slave, 

And  mocked  the  counsel  of  the  wise,  and  the  valor  of  the  brave. 

Then  glory  to  his  holy  name,  from  whom  all  glories  are, 

And  glory  to  our  sovereign  lord,  King  Henry  of  Navarre ! 


AUCTION  EXTRAORDINARY. 

Lucretia  Davidson, 
I  dreamed  a  dream  in  the  midst  of  my  slumbers, 
And  as  fast  as  I  dreamed  it  was  coined  into  numbers ; 
My  thoughts  ran  along  in  such  beautiful  metre, 
I'm  sure  I  ne'er  saw  any  poetry  sweeter. 
It  seemed  that  a  law  had  been  recently  made 
That  a  tax  on  old  bachelors'  pates  should  be  laid ; 
And,  in  order  to  make  them  all  willing  to  marry, 
The  tax  was  as  large  as  a  man  could  well  carry. 
The  bachelors  grumbled,  and  said  'twas  no  use — 
'Twas  a  horrid  injustice  and  horrid  abuse, 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  307 

And  declared  that,  to  save  their  own  heart's-blood  from  spilling, 

Of  such  a  vile  tax  they  would  not  pay  a  shilling. 

But  the  rulers  determined  them  still  to  pursue, 

So  they  set  all  the  bachelors  up  at  vendue ; 

A  crier  was  sent  through  the  town  to  and  fro, 

To  rattle  his  bell  and  his  trumpet  to  blow, 

And  to  call  out  to  all  he  might  meet  in  his  way, 

"Ho!  forty  old  bachelors  sold  here  to-day." 

And  presently  all  the  old  maids  of  the  town, 

Each  in  her  very  best  bonnet  and  gown, 

From  thirty  to  sixty,  fair,  plain,  red,  and  pale, 

Of  every  description,  all  nocked  to  the  sale. 

The  auctioneer  then  in  his  labors  began, 

And  called  out  aloud,  as  he  held  up  a  man, 

"  How  much  for  a  bachelor — who  wants  to  buy  ?" 

In  a  twink  every  maiden  responded  "  I — I !" 

In  short,  at  a  highly  extravagant  price, 

The  bachelors  all  were  sold  off  in  a  trice ; 

And  forty  old  maidens,  some  younger,  some  older, 

Each  lugged  an  old  bachelor  home  on  her  shoulder. 


THE  GAIN  OF  LOSS. 

[From  "Hymns  of  Hope  and  Faith."] 

HORATIUS  BONAR,  D.D. 

"Nay,  give  me  back  my  blossoms!" 

Said  the  palm-tree  to  the  Nile ; 
But  the  stream  passed  on,  unheeding, 

With  its  old  familiar  smile. 
"  Give  back  my  golden  ringlets  /" 

Said  the  palm-tree  to  the  Nile ; 
But  the  stream  swept  on  in  silence, 

With  its  dimple  and  its  smile. 
With  its  dimple  and  its  smile  it  passed— 

With  its  dimple  and  its  smile, 
All  heedless  of  the  palm's  low  wail, 

That  sunny,  sunny  Nile ! 
By  Rodah's  island-garden, 

With  its  ripple  and  its  smile ; 
By  Shfibra's  mystic  hedgerows 

It  swept,  that  glorious  Nile  ! 
By  Gizeh's  great  palm-forest 

It  flashed  its  stately  smile — 
By  Bulak's  river-harbor, 

That  old,  majestic  Nile  ! 


308  MANUAL   OF  "READING. 

By  pyramid  and  palace, 

With  its  never-ending  smile ; 

By  tomb,  and  mosque,  and  mazar, 
It  flowed,  that  mighty  Nile ! 

.    "  Come,  give  me  back  my  blossoms," 
Sighed  the  palm-tree  to  the  Nile  ; 
But  the  river  flowed  unheeding, 
With  its  soft  and  silver  smile. 

With  its  soft  and  silver  smile  it  flowed, 
With  its  soft  and  silver  smile, 

All  heedless  of  the  palm-tree's  sigh, 
That  strange,  long- wandering  Nile ! 

It  seemed  to  say, ' '  'Tis  better  far 
To  leave  your  flowers  to  me  ; 

I  will  bear  their  yellow  beauty  on 
To  the  wondering,  wondering  sea. 

"  'Tis  better  they  should  float  away 

Upon  my  dusky  wave, 
Than  find  upon  their  native  stem 

A  useless  home  and  grave. 

"  If  your  sweet  flowers  remain  with  yon. 
Fruitless  your  boughs  must  be ; 

'Tis  their  departure  brings  the  fruit. 
Give  your  bright  flowers  to  me. 

"Nay,  ask  not  back  your  blossoms," 
To  the  palm-tree  said  the  Nile  ; 

"Let  me  keep  them,"  said  the  river, 
With  its  sweet  and  sunny  smile. 

And  the  palm  gave  up  its  blossoms 
To  its  friend  so  wise  and  old, 

And  saw  them,  all  unsighing, 
Float  down  the  river's  gold. 

The  amber  tresses  vanished, 
And  the  clear  spring-fragrance  fled, 

But  the  welcome  fruit  in  clusters 
Came  richly  up  instead. 

'Tis  thus  we  gain  by  losing, 
And  win  by  failure  here ; 

We  doff  the  gleaming  tinsel, 
The  golden  crown  to  wear. 

Our  sickness  is  our  healing, 
Our  weakness  is  our  might  j 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS,  309 

Life  is  but  Death's  fair  offspring, 
And  Day  the  child  of  Night. 

'Tis  thus  we  rise  by  setting — 

Through  darkness  reach  our  day  5 
Our  own  way  hourly  losing, 

To  find  the  eternal  way. 
'Tis  by  defeat  we  conquer — 

Grow  rich  by  growing  poor; 
And  from  our  largest  givings 

We  draw  our  fullest  store. 

Then  let  the  blossoms  perish, 

And  let  the  fragrance  go  ; 
All  the  surer  and  the  larger 

Is  the  harvest  we  shall  know. 

All  the  sweeter  and  the  louder 

Our  song  of  harvest-home, 
When  earth's  ripe  autumn  smileth, 

And  the  reaping-day  has  come. 


'     THE  FIKEMAN. 

E.  T.  CONRAH 

The  city  slumbers.     O'er  its  mighty  walls 
Night's  dusky  mantle  soft  and  silent  foils  ; 
Sleep  o'er  the  world  slow  waves  its  wand  of  lead, 
And  ready  torpors  wrap  each  sinking  head. 
Stilled  is  the  stir  of  labor  and  of  life ; 
Hushed  is  the  hum,  and  tranquillized  the  strife. 
Man  is  at  rest,  with  all  his  hopes  and  fears  ; 
The  young  forget  their  sports,  the  old  their  cares  j 
The  grave  are  careless  ;  those  who  joy  or  weep, 
All  rest  contented  on  the  arm  of  sleep. 

Sweet  is  the  pillowed  rest  of  beauty  now, 
And  slumber  smiles  upon  her  tranquil  brow ; 
Her  bright  dreams  lead  her  to  the  moonlit  tide, 
Ijler  heart's  own  partner  wandering  by  her  side. 
'Tis  a  summer's  eve  :  the  soft  gales  scarcely  rouse 
The  low-voiced  ripple  and  the  rustling  boughs  ; 
And  faint  and  far,  some  minstrel's  melting  tone 
Breathes  to  her  heart  a  music  like  its  own. 

(as/>.)  When,  hark  !  oh  horror!  what  a  crash  is  there  ! 

What  shriek  is  that  which  fills  the  midnight  air? 
(JT-)     Tis  "Fire  !  fire  !"'     She  wakes  to  dream  no  more! 

The  hot  blast  rushes  through  the  blazing  door  ! 


31.0  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

The  dim  smoke  eddies  round ;  and  hark !  that  cry ! 
(/.)  "Help!  help!     Will  no  one  aid ?    I  die— I  die!" 

She  seeks  the  casement ;  shuddering  at  its  height, 

She  turns  again  ;  the  fierce  flames  mock  her  flight ; 

Along  the  crackling  stairs  they  fiercely  play, 

And  roar,  exulting,  as  they  seize  their  prey. 
(/■.)  "Help!  help!     Will  no  one  come ?"     She  says  no  more, 

But,  pale  and  breathless,  sinks  upon  the  floor. 

Will  no  one  save  thee  ?    Yes,  there  yet  is  one 

Remains  to  save,  when  hope  itself  is  gone ; 

When  all  have  fled — when  all  but  he  would  fly, 

The  fireman  comes  to  rescue  or  to  die ! 

He  mounts  the  stair— it  wavers  'neath  his  tread  ; 

He  seeks  the  room — flames  flashing  round  his  head  ; 

He  bursts  the  door,  he  lifts  her  prostrate  frame, 

And  turns  again  to  brave  the  raging  flame. 

The  fire-blast  smites  him  with  its  stifling  breath, 

The  falling  timbers  menace  him  with  death, 

The  sinking  floors  his  hurried  steps  betray, 

And  ruin  crashes  round  his  desperate  way  ; 

Hot  smoke  obscures — ten  thousand  cinders  rise^ 

Yet  still  he  staggers  forward  with  his  prize. 
(/.)  He  leaps  from  burning  stair  to  stair.     On !  on ! 

Courage !     One  effort  more,  and  all  is  won ! 

The  stair  is  passed— the  blazing  hall  is  braved ! 
(/.)  Still  on !     Yet  on !     Once  more !     Thank  Heaven,  she's  saved ! 


THE  PICKET-GUAKD. 

"All  quiet  along  the  Potomac,"  they  say, 

Except  now  and  then  a  stray  picket 
Is  shot,  as  he  walks  on  his  beat  to  and  fro, 

By  a  rifleman  hid  in  the  thicket. 
'Tis  nothing :  a  private  or  two,  now  and  then, 

Will  not  count  in  the  news  of  a  battle ; 
Not  an  officer  lost — only  one  of  the  men, 

Moaning  out  all  alone  the  death-rattle. 

All  quiet  along  the  Potomac  to-night, 

Where  the  soldiers  lie  peacefully  dreaming ; 
Their  tents  in  the  rays  of  the  clear  autumn  moon, 

Or  the  light  of  the  watch-fires  are  gleaming. 
A  tremulous  sigh  as  the  gentle  night-wind 

Through  the  forest-leaves  softly  is  creeping, 
While  the  stars  up  above,  with  their  glittering  eyes, 

Keep  guard,  for  the  army  is  sleeping. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  311 

There's  only  the  sound  of  the  lone  sentry's  tread 

As  he  tramps  from  the  rock  to  the  fountain, 
And  thinks  of  the  two  in  the  low  trundle-bed 

Far  away  in  the  cot  on  the  mountain. 
His  musket  falls  slack ;  his  face,  dark  and  grim, 

Grows  gentle  with  memories  tender, 
As  he  mutters  a  prayer  for  the  children  asleep — 

For  their  mother — may  Heaven  defend  her ! 

The  moon  seems  to  shine  just  as  brightly  as  then — 

That  night  when  the  love,  yet  unspoken, 
Leaped  up  to  his  lips — when  low,  murmured  vows 

Were  pledged  to  be  ever  unbroken. 
Then,  drawing  his  sleeve  roughly  over  his  face, 

He  dashes  off  tears  that  are  welling, 
And  gathers  his  gun  closer  up  to  its  place, 

As  if  to  keep  down  the  heart-swelling. 

He  passes  the  fountain,  the  blasted  pine-tree ; 

The  footstep  is  lagging  and  weaiy ; 
Yet  onward  he  goes,  through  the  broad  belt  of  light, 

Toward  the  shade  of  the  forest  so  dreaiy. 
Hark !  was  it  the  night-wind  that  rustled  the  leaves  ? 

Was  it  moonlight  so  wond'rously  flashing  ? 
It  looked  like  a  rifle :  "  Ha  !  Mary,  good-by," 

And  the  life-blood  is  ebbing  and  plashing. 

All  quiet  along  the  Potomac  to-night — 

No  sound  save  the  rush  of  the  river, 
While  soft  falls  the  dew  on  the  face  of  the  dead — 

The  picket's  off  duty  forever. 

JESUS'  SEAT.* 

Miss  F.  Eastwood. 
Far,  far  away  o'er  the  deep  blue  sea 
Lived  a  man  who  was  kind  as  kind  could  be. 
He  loved  little  children,  and  spread  every  day 
A  table  from  which  none  went  empty  away. 
Poor  children  came  in  from  the  alley  and  street, 
With  rags  on  their  backs,  and  no  shoes  on  their  feet ; 
Girls  and  boys,  large  and  small,  some  naughty  and  rude, 
But  John  Falk  loved  them  all  and  did  them  all  good. 
And  while  they  were  eating,  he  often  would  tell 
Of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  on  earth  did  once  dwell ; 
How  he  loved  little  children—each  one  of  them  there 
He  was  watching  from  heaven  with  tenderest  care — 
*  Published  by  the  American  Tract  Society. 


312  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

And  how  happy  and  blessed  would  be  the  child's  part 

Who  would  let  that  dear  Savior  come  dwell  in  his  heart. 

Each  day,  when  the  children  assembled  to  eat, 

He  taught  them  to  offer  this  grace  for  their  meat : 

"Bless,  Jesus,  the  food  thou  hast  given  us  to-day, 

And  come  and  sup  with  us,  dear  Jesus,  we  pray." 

But  once,  when  the  children  had  finished  this  prayer, 

One  poor  little  fellow  stood  still  by  his  chair 

For  a  moment,  then  ran  to  the  closet  where  stood 

The  bright  cups  of  tin  and  the  platters  of  wood. 

"Now  what  is  the  matter ?"  said Falk  to  the  child. 

The  little  one  looked  in  his  kind  face,  and  smiled : 

"  We  asked  the  Lord  Jesus  just  now,  in  our  grace, 

To  sup  with  us  here,  but  we've  given  him  no  place. 

If  he  should  come  in,  how  sad  it  would  be ! 

But  I'll  put  him  a  stool  close  here  beside  me." 

Then  the  boy,  quite  contented,  sat  down  to  his  food; 

He  was  hungry  and  tired,  and  his  supper  was  good. 

But  a  few  moments  after,  he  heard  at  the  door 

A  knock  low  and  timid — one  knock,  and  no  more. 

He  started  to  open  it,  hoping  to  meet 

The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  come  to  look  for  his  seat ; 

But  when  it  was  open,  he  no  one  could  see 

But  a  poor  little  child  much  poorer  than  he; 

His  face  blue  with  hunger ;  his  garments,  so  old, 

Were  dripping  with  rain  ;  and  he  shivered  with  cold. 

"  Come  in !"  cried  the  boy,  in  a  tone  of  delight ; 

"  I  suppose  the  Lord  Christ  could  not  come  here  to-night. 

Though  we  asked  him  to  come  and  partake  of  our  bread, 

So  he's  just  sent  you  down  to  us  here  in  his  stead. 

The  supper  is  good,  and  we'll  each  give  you  some, 

And  tell  the  Lord  Christ  we  are  glad  you  have  come." 

From  that  time,  when  the  children  assembled  to  eat, 

There  was  always  one  place  called  "  the  Lord  Jesus'  seat  ;?s 

And  the  best  that  they  had  was  placed  there  each  day 

For  one  who  was  poorer  and  hungrier  than  they. 

And  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  reply  to  their  grace, 

Sent  always  some  person  to  sit  in  his  place ; 

And  sweet  was  the  food  that  the  Lord  did  provide 

For  the  stranger  he  sent  them  to  eat  at  their  side. 

Dear  friends,  who  have  heard  this  short  story,  yon  know 

The  words  that  our  Savior  once  spake  when  below : 

If  we  wish  for  his  presence  to  hallow  our  bread, 

We  must  welcome  the  stranger  he  sends  in  his  stead. 

When  we  set  out  our  feasts,  this  our  motto  must  be, 

"As  ye  do  to  my  poor,  ye  have  done  unto  me !" 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  313 


ABOU  BEN  ADHEM. 

Leigh  Hunt. 
Abou  Ben  Adhem  (may  his  tribe  increase !) 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 
And  saw  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 
Making  it  rich  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 
An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold : 
Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold, 
And  to  the  Presence  in  the  room  he  said, 
"  What  writest  thou  ?"    The  vision  raised  its  head, 
And,  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord, 
Answered,  "  The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord." 
"  And  is  mine  one  ?"  said  Abou.     "  Nay,  not  so," 
Replied  the  angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low, 
But  cheerly  still ;  and  said,  "  I  pray  thee,  then, 
Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men." 
The  angel  wrote,  and  vanish 'd.     The  next  night 
It  came  again,  with  a  great  wakening  light, 
And  showed  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  blessed, 
And,  lo !  Ben  Adhem 's  name  led  all  the  rest. 


DORA. 

Alfred  Tennyson. 
With  Farmer  Allan  at  the  farm  abode 
William  and  Dora.     William  was  his  son, 
And  she  his  niece.     He  often  look'd  at  them, 
And  often  thought  "I'll  make  them  man  and  wife." 
Now  Dora  felt  her  uncle's  will  in  all, 
And  yearn'd  towards  William ;  but  the  youth,  because 
He  had  been  always  with  her  in  the  house, 
Thought  not  of  Dora. 

Then  there  came  a  day 
When  Allan  call'd  his  son,  and  said,  * '  My  son, 
I  married  late,  but  I  would  wish  to  see 
My  grandchild  on  my  knees  before  I  die : 
And  I  have  set  my  heart  upon  a  match. 
Now  therefore  look  to  Dora ;  she  is  well 
To  look  to ;  thrifty  too  beyond  her  age. 
She  is  my  brother's  daughter :  he  and  I 
Had  once  hard  words,  and  parted,  and  he  died 
In  foreign  lands ;  but  for  his  sake  I  bred 
His  daughter  Dora ;  take  her  for  your  wife  ; 
For  I  have  wish'd  this  marriage,  night  and  day, 

o 


314  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

For  many  years. "    But  William  answer' d  short : 
"  I  can  not  marry  Dora ;  by  my  life, 

I  will  not  marry  Dora."    Then  the  old  man 
Was  wroth,  and  doubled  up  his  hands,  and  said, 

II  You  will  not,  boy !  you  dare  to  answer  thus ! 
But  in  my  time  a  father's  word  was  law, 
And  so  it  shall  be  now  for  me.     Look  to  it : 
Consider,  William :  take  a  month  to  think, 
And  let  me  have  an  answer  to  my  wish, 

Or,  by  the  Lord  that  made  me,  you  shall  pack, 
And  never  more  darken  my  doors  again." 
But  William  answered  madly ;  bit  his  lips, 
And  broke  away.     The  more  he  looked  at  her 
The  less  he  liked  her ;  and  his  ways  were  harsh ; 
But  Dora  bore  them  meekly.     Then  before 
The  month  was  out  he  left  his  father's  house, 
And  hired  himself  to  work  within  the  fields  ; 
And  half  in  love,  half  spite,  he  wooed  and  wed 
A  laborer's  daughter,  Mary  Morrison. 

Then,  when  the  bells  were  ringing,  Allan  call'd 
His  niece  and  said,  "  My  girl,  I  love  you  well ; 
But  if  you  speak  with  him  that  was  my  son, 
Or  change  a  word  with  her  he  calls  his  wife, 
My  home  is  none  of  yours.     My  will  is  law." 
And  Dora  promised,  being  meek.     She  thought, 
"  It  can  not  be :  my  uncle's  mind  will  change  1" 

And  days  went  on,  and  there  was  born  a  boy 
To  William ;  then  distresses  came  on  him ; 
And  day  by  day  he  passed  his  father's  gate, 
Heart-broken,  and  his  father  helped  him  not. 
But  Dora  stored  what  little  she  could  save, 
And  sent  it  them  by  stealth,  nor  did  they  know 
Who  sent  it ;  till  at  last  a  fever  seized 
On  William,  and  in  harvest-time  he  died. 

Then  Dora  went  to  Mary.     Mary  sat 
And  looked  with  tears  upon  her  boy,  and  thought 
Hard  things  of  Dora.     Dora  came  and  said, 
"  I  have  obeyed  my  uncle  until  now, 
And  I  have  sinned,  for  it  was  all  through  me 
This  evil  came  on  William  at  the  first. 
But,  Mary,  for  the  sake  of  him  that's  gone, 
And  for  your  sake,  the  woman  that  he  chose, 
And  for  this  orphan,  I  am  come  to  you : 
You  know  there  has  not  been  for  these  five  years 
So  full  a  harvest :  let  me  take  the  boy, 
And  I  will  set  him  in  my  uncle's  eye 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  315 

Among  the  wheat ;  that  when  his  heart  is  glad 

Of  the  full  harvest,  he  may  see  the  boy, 

And  bless  him  for  the  sake  of  him  that's  gone." 

And  Dora  took  the  child,  and  went  her  way 
Across  the  wheat,  and  sat  upon  a  mound 
That  was  unsown,  where  many  poppies  grew. 
Far  off  the  farmer  came  into  the  field 
And  spied  her  not ;  but  none  of  all  his  men 
Dare  tell  him  Dora  waited  with  the  child ; 
And  Dora  would  have  risen  and  gone  to  him, 
But  her  heart  failed  her ;  and  the  reapers  reaped, 
And  the  sun  fell,  and  all  the  land  was  dark. 

But  when  the  morrow  came,  she  rose  and  took 
The  child  once  more,  and  sat  upon  the  mound ; 
And  made  a  little  wreath  of  all  the  flowers 
That  grew  about,  and  tied  it  round  his  hat, 
To  make  him  pleasing  in  her  uncle's  eye. 
Then,  when  the  farmer  passed  into  the  field, 
He  spied  her,  and  he  left  his  men  at  work, 
And  came  and  said,  "  Where  were  you  yesterday? 
Whose  child  is  that  ?    What  are  you  doing  here  ?" 
So  Dora  cast  her  eyes  upon  the  ground, 
And  answer'd  softly,  " This  is  William's  child!'* 
"And  did  I  not,"  said  Allan,  "did  I  not 
Forbid  you,  Dora  ?"    Dora  said  again, 
"  Do  with  me  as  you  will,  but  take  the  child, 
And  bless  him  for  the  sake  of  him  that's  gone ! " 
And  Allan  said,  "  I  see  it  is  a  trick 
Got  up  betwixt  you  and  the  woman  there. 
I  must  be  taught  my  duty,  and  by  you ! 
You  knew  my  word  was  law,  and  yet  you  dared 
To  slight  it.     Well— for  I  will  take  the  boy ; 
But  go  you  hence,  and  never  see  me  more." 

So  saying,  he  took  the  boy,  that  cried  aloud 
And  struggled  hard.     The  wreath  of  flowers  fell 
At  Dora's  feet.     She  bowed  upon  her  hands, 
And  the  boy's  cry  came  to  her  from  the  field, 
More  and  more  distant.     She  bowed  down  her  head, 
Bemembering  the  day  when  first  she  came, 
And  all  the  things  that  had  been.     She  bowed  down 
And  wept  in  secret ;  and  the  reapers  reaped, 
And  the  sun  fell,  And  all  the  land  was  dark. 

Then  Dora  went  to  Mary's  house,  and  stood 
Upon  the  threshold.     Mary  saw  the  boy 
Was  not  with  Dora.     She  broke  out  in  praise 
To  God,  that  helped  her  in  her  widowhood. 


316  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

And  Dora  said,  *'  My  uncle  took  the  boy ; 
But,  Mary,  let  me  live  and  work  with  you : 
He  says  that  he  will  never  see  me  more." 
Then  answered  Mary,  "  This  shall  never  be, 
That  thou  shouldst  take  my  trouble  on  thyself; 
And,  now  I  think,  he  shall  not  have  the  boy, 
For  he  will  teach  him  hardness,  and  to  slight 
His  mother ;  therefore  thou  and  I  will  go, 
And  I  will  have  my  boy,  and  bring  him  home ; 
And  I  will  beg  of  him  to  take  thee  back ; 
But  if  he  will  not  take  thee  back  again, 
Then  thou  and  I  will  live  within  one  house, 
And  work  for  William's  child  until  he  grows 
Of  age  to  help  us." 

So  the  women  kiss'd 
Each  other,  and  set  out,  and  reached  the  farm, 
The  door  was  off  the  latch  :  they  peeped,  and  saw 
The  boy  set  up  betwixt  his  grandsire's  knees, 
Who  thrust  him  in  the  hollows  of  his  arm, 
And  clapped  him  on  the  hands  and  on  the  cheeks, 
Like  one  that  loved  him ;  and  the  lad  stretched  oui 
And  babbled  for  the  golden  seal  that  hung 
From  Allan's  watch,  and  sparkled  by  the  fire. 
Then  they  came  in ;  but  when  the  boy  beheld 
His  mother,  he  cried  out  to  come  to  her ; 
And  Allan  sat  him  down,  and  Mary  said, 

"  Oh  father — if  you  let  me  call  you  so — 
I  never  came  a-begging  for  myself,  x 
Or  William,  or  this  child ;  but  now  I  come 
For  Dora :  take  her  back ;  she  loves  you  well. 
Oh  sir,  when  William  died,  he  died  at  peace 
With  all  men  f  for  I  asked  him,  and  he  said 
He  could  not  ever  rue  his  marrying  me. 
I  had  been  a  patient  wife ;  but,  sir,  he  said 
That  he  was  wrong  to  cross  his  father  thus : 
*  God  bless  him !'  he  said, '  and  may  he  never  know 
The  troubles  I  have  gone  through ! '     Then  he  turned 
His  face  and  passed — unhappy  that  I  am ! 
But  now,  sir,  let  me  have  my  boy,  for  you 
Will  make  him  hard,  and  he  will  leam  to  slight 
His  father's  memory ;  and  take  Dora  back, 
And  let  all  this  be  as  it  was  before." 

So  Mary  said,  and  Dora  hid  her  face 
By  Mary.     There  was  silence  in  the  room  ; 
And  all  at  once  the  old  man  burst  in  sobs : 

"I  have  been  to  blame—to  blame.     I  have  killed  my  son. 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  SI*/ 

I  have  killed  him — but  I  loved  him — my  dear  son! 
May  God  forgive  me ! — I  have  been  to  blame. 
Kiss  me,  my  children." 

Then  they  clung  about 
The  old  man's  neck,  and  kissed  him  many  times. 
And  all  the  man  was  broken  with  remorse ; 
And  all  his  love  came  back  a  hundred  fold ; 
And  for  three  hours  he  sobbed  o'er  William's  child, 
Thinking  of  William. 

So  those  four  abode 
Within  one  house  together ;  and  as  years 
Went  forward,  Mary  took  another  mate ; 
"Sut  Dora  lived  unmarried  till  her  death. 


THE  BUGLE  SONG. 

Alfred  Tennyson. 
The  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls, 

And  snowy  summits  old  in  story  ; 
The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes, 
And  the  wild  cataract  leaps  in  glory. 
j$low,  bugle,  blow !  set  the  wild  echoes  flying ; 
Blow,  bugle ;  answer,  echoes,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

Oh  hark !  oh  hear !  how  thin  and  clear, 

And  thinner,  clearer,  farther  going ; 
Oh  sweet  and  far,  from  cliff  and  scar, 
The  horns  of  Elfland  faintly  blowing. 
Blow !  let  us  hear  the  purple  glens  replying ; 
Blow,  bugle ;  answer,  echoes,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

Oh  love,  they  die  in  yon  rich  sky, 

They  faint  on  hill,  on  field,  on  river ; 
Our  echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul, 
And  grow  forever  and  forever. 
Blow,  bugle,  blow !  set  the  wild  echoes  flying ; 
And  answer,  echoes,  answer,  dying,  dying,  dying. 


LITTLE  GRETCHEN. 

From  the  German. 
Little  Gretchen,  little  Gretchen  wanders  up  and  down  the  street ; 
The  snow  is  on  her  yellow  hair,  the  frost  is  at  her  feet. 
The  rows  of  long,  dark  houses  without  look  cold  and  damp 
By  the  struggling  of  the  moonbeam,  by  the  flicker  of  the  lamp. 
The  clouds  ride  fast  as  horses,  the  wind  is  from  the  north, 
But  no  one  cares  for  Gretchen,  and  no  one  looketh  forth. 


518  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

Within  those  dark,  damp  houses  are  merry  faces  bright, 
And  happy  hearts  are  watching  out  the  old  year's  latest  night. 
With  the  little  box  of  matches  she  could  not  sell  all  day, 
And  the  thin,  thin  tattered  mantle  the  wind  blows  every  way, 
She  clingeth  to  the  railing,  she  shivers  in  the  gloom — 
There  are  parents  sitting  snugly  by  firelight  in  the  room ; 
And  children  with  grave  faces  are  whispering  one  another 
Of  presents  for  the  new  year,  for  father  or  for  mother. 
But  no  one  talks  to  Gretchen,  and  no  one  hears  her  speak, 
No  breath  of  little  whisperers  comes  warmly  to  her  cheek. 

No  little  arms  are  round  her :  ah  me !  that  there  should  be, 
With  so  much  happiness  on  earth,  so  much  of  misery ! 
Sure  they  of  many  blessings  should,  scatter  blessings  round, 
As  laden  boughs  in  autumn  fling  their  ripe  fruits  to  the  ground. 
And  the  best  love  man  can  offer  to  the  God  of  love,  be  sure, 
Is  kindness  to  his  little  ones,  and  bounty  to  his  poor. 
Little  Gretchen,  little  Gretchen  goes  coldly  on  her  way ; 
There's  no  one  looketh  out  at  her,  there's  no  one  bids  her  stay. 

Her  home  is  cold  and  desolate ;  no  smile,  no  food,  no  fire, 
But  children  clamorous  for  bread,  and  an  impatient  sire. 
So  she  sits  down  in  an  angle  where  two  great  houses  meet, 
And  she  curleth  up  beneath  her,  for  warmth,  her  little  feet ; 
And  she  looketh  on  the  cold  wall,  and  on  the  colder  sky, 
And  wonders  if  the  little  stars  are  bright  fires  up  on  high. 
She  hears  a  clock  strike  slowly,  up  in  a  far  church  tower, 
With  such  a  sad  and  solemn  tone,  telling  the  midnight  hour. 

And  she  remembered  her  of  tales  her  mother  used  to  tell, 
And  of  the  cradle-songs  she  sang,  when  summer's  twilight  fell ; 
Of  good  men  and  of  angels,  and  of  the  Holy  Child, 
Who  was  cradled  in  a  manger,  when  winter  was  most  wild ; 
Who  was  poor,  and  cold,  and  hungry,  and  desolate  and  lone ; 
And  she  thought  the  song  had  told  he  was  ever  with  his  own ; 
And  all  the  poor,  and  hungry,  and  forsaken  ones  are  his — 
"How  good  of  Him  to  look  on  me  in  such  a  place  as  this !" 

Colder  it  grows  and  colder,  but  she  does  not  feel  it  now, 
For  the  pressure  at  her  heart,  and  the  weight  upon  her  brow  5 
But  she  struck  one  little  match  on  the  wall  so  cold  and  bare, 
That  she  might  look  around  her,  and  see  if  He  were  there. 
The  single  match  has  kindled,  and  by  the  light  it  threw, 
It  seemed  to  little  Gretchen  the  wall  was  rent  in  two  ; 
And  she  could  see  folks  seated  at  a  table  richly  spread, 
With  heaps  of  goodly  viands,  red  wine  and  pleasant  bread. 

She  could  smell  the  fragrant  savor,  she  could  hear  what  they  did  say, 
Then  all  was  darkness  once  again — the  match  had  burned  away. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  319 

She  struck  another  hastily,  and  now  she  seemed  to  see 

Within  the  same  warm  chamber  a  glorious  Christmas  tree. 

The  branches  were  all  laden  with  things  that  children  prize, 

Bright  gifts  for  boy  and  maiden — she  saw  them  with  her  eyes. 

And  she  almost  seemed  to  touch  them,  and  to  join  the  welcome  shout, 

When  darkness  fell  around  her,  for  the  little  match  was  out. 

Another,  yet  another,  she  has  tried — they  will  not  light ; 
Till  all  her  little  store  she  took,  and  struck  with  all  her  might : 
And  the  whole  miserable  place  was  lighted  with  the  glare, 
And  she  dreamed  there  stood  a  little  child  before  her  in  the  air. 
There  were  blood-drops  on  his  forehead,  a  spear-wound  in  his  side, 
And  cruel  nail-prints  in  his  feet,  and  in  his  hands  spread  wide. 
And  he  looked  upon  her  gently,  and  she  felt  that  he  had  known 
Pain,  hunger,  cold,  and  sorrow — ay,  equal  to  her  own. 

And  he  pointed  to  the  laden  board  and  to  the  Christmas  tree, 

Then  up  to  the  cold  sky,  and  said,  "Will  Gretchen  come  with  me?" 

The  poor  child  felt  her  pulses  fail,  she  felt  her  eyeballs  swim, 

And  a  ringing  sound  was  in  her  ears,  like  her  dead  mother's  hymn : 

And  she  folded  both  her  thin  white  hands,  and  turned  from  that  bright  board, 

And  from  the  golden  gifts,  and  said,  "With  thee,  with  thee,  O  Lord!" 

The  chilly  winter  morning  breaks  up  in  the  dull  skies 

On  the  city  wrapped  in  vapor,  on  the  spot  where  Gretchen  lies. 

In  her  scant  and  tattered  garment,  with  her  back  against  the  wall, 

She  sitteth  cold  and  rigid,  she  answers  to  no  call. 

They  have  lifted  her  up  fearfully,  they  shuddered  as  they  said, 

"It  was  a  bitter, bitter  night!  the  child  is  frozen  dead." 

The  angels  sang  their  greeting  for  one  more  redeemed  from  sin ; 

Men  said,  "  It  was  a  bitter  night ;  would  no  one  let  her  in?" 

And  they  shivered  as  they  spoke  of  her,  and  sighed.     They  could  not  see 

How  much  of  happiness  there  was  after  that  misery. 


THERE'S  BUT  ONE  PAIR  OF  STOCKINGS  TO  MEND 
TO-NIGHT. 

An  old  wife  sat  by  her  bright  fireside, 

Swaying  thoughtfully  to  and  fro, 
In  an  ancient  chair  whose  creaky  craw 

Told  a  tale  of  long  ago ; 
While  down  by  her  side  on  the  kitchen  floor 
Stood  a  basket  of  worsted  balls — a  score. 

The  good  man  dozed  o'er  the  latest  news 

Till  the  fire  of  his  pipe  went  out ; 
And,  unheeded,  the  kitten,  with  cunning  paws, 

Rolled  out  and  tangled  the  balls  about ; 


320  MANUAL   OF  READING. 

Yet  still  sat  the  wife  in  the  ancient  chair, 
Swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  firelight  glare. 
But  anon  a  misty  tear-drop  came 

In  her  eye  of  faded  blue, 
Then  trickled  down  in  a  furrow  deep, 

Like  a  single  drop  of  dew ; 
So  deep  was  the  channel,  so  silent  the  stream, 
The  good  man  saw  naught  but  the  dimmed  eye-beam. 
Yet  marveled  he  much  that  the  cheerful  light 

Of  her  eye  had  weary  grown, 
And  marveled  he  more  at  the  tangled  balls : 

So  he  said,  in  a  gentle  tone, 
UI  have  shared  thy  joys  since  our  marriage  vow, 
Conceal  not  from  me  thy  sorrows  now." 

Then  she  spoke  of  the  time  when  the  basket  there 

Was  filled  to  the  very  brim, 
And  now  there  remained  of  the  goodly  pile 

But  a  single  pair — for  him ; 
Then  wonder  not  at  the  dimmed  eye-light : 
There's  but  one  pair  of  stockings  to  mend  to-night, 

I  can  not  but  think  of  the  busy  feet 

Whose  wrappings  were  wont  to  lay 
In  the  basket,  awaiting  the  needle's  time — 

Now  wandered  so  far  away ; 
How  the  sprightly  steps,  to  a  mother  dear, 
Unheeded  fall  on  the  careless  ear. 
For  each  empty  nook  in  the  basket  old, 

By  the  hearth  there's  an  empty  seat : 
And  I  miss  the  shadows  from  off  the  wall, 

And  the  patter  of  many  feet : 
'Tis  for  this  that  a  tear  gathered  over  my  sight, 
At  the  one  pair  of  stockings  to  mend  to-night. 
'Twas  said  that  far  through  the  forest  wild, 

And  over  the  mountains  bold, 
Was  a  land  whose  rivers  and  darkening  caves 

Were  gemmed  with  the  fairest  gold ; 
Then  my  first-born  turned  from  the  oaken  door, 
And  I  knew  the  shadows  were  only  four. 
Another  went  forth  on  the  foaming  wave, 

And  diminished  the  basket's  store ; 
But  his  feet  grew  cold — so  weary  and  cold 

They'll  never  be  warm  any  more ; 
And  this  nook,  in  its  emptiness,  seemeth  to  me 
To  give  back  no  voice  but  the  moan  of  the  sea. 


MISOELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  321 

Two  others  have  gone  toward  the  setting  sun, 

And  made  them  a  home  in  its  light, 
And  fairy  fingers  have  taken  their  share, 

To  mend  by  the  fireside  bright ; 
Some  other  baskets  their  garments  fill — 
But  mine !  oh !  mine  is  emptier  still. 
Another — the  dearest — the  fairest — the  best — 

Was  taken  by  angels  away, 
And  clad  in  a  garment  that  waxeth  not  old, 

In  a  land  of  continual  day. 
Oh,  wonder  no  more  at  the  dimmed  eye-light, 
While  I  mend  the  one  pair  of  stockings  to-night. 


THE  STAELESS  CROWN.* 

"  They  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  shall  shine  as  the  stars  forever  anfl 
ever."— Dan.  xii.,  3. 

Wearied  and  worn  with  earthly  cares,  I  yielded  to  repose, 
And  soon  before  my  raptured  sight  a  glorious  vision  rose  : 
I  thought,  while  slumbering  on  my  couch  in  midnight's  solemn  gloom, 
I  heard  an  angel's  silvery  voice,  and  radiance  filled  my  room. 
A  gentle  touch  awakened  me ;  a  gentle  whisper  said, 
"Arise,  oh  sleeper ;  follow  me ;"  and  through  the  air  we  fled. 
We  left  the  earth  so  far  away  that  like  a  speck  it  seemed, 
And  heavenly  glory,  calm  and  pure,  across  our  pathway  streamed. 
Still  on  we  went ;  my  soul  was  rapt  in  silent  ecstasy : 
I  wondered  what  the  end  would  be,  what  next  should  meet  mine  eye. 
I  knew  not  how  we  journeyed  through  the  pathless  field  of  light, 
When  suddenly  a  change  was  wrought,  and  I  was  clothed  in  white. 
We  stood  before  a  city's  walls  most  glorious  to  behold ; 
We  passed  through  gates  of  glistening  pearl,  o'er  streets  of  purest  gold ; 
It  needed  not  the  sun  by  day,  the  silver  moon  by  night ; 
The  glory  of  the  Lord  was  there,  the  Lamb  himself  its  light. 
Bright  angels  paced  the  shining  streets,  sweet  music  filled  the  air, 
And  white-robed  saints,  with  glittering  crowns,  from  every  clime  were  there 
And  some  that  I  had  loved  on  earth  stood  with  them  round  the  throne, 
"All  worthy  is  the  Lamb,"  they  sang,  "  the  glory  his  alone." 
But  fairer  far  than  all  besides,  I  saw  my  Savior's  face ; 
And  as  I  gazed  he  smiled  on  me  with  wondrous  love  and  grace. 
Lowly  I  bowed  before  his  throne,  o'erjoyed  that  I  at  last 
Had  gained  the  object  of  my  hopes ;  that  earth  at  length  was  past. 
And  then  in  solemn  tones  he  said,  "Where  is  the  diadem 
That  ought  to  sparkle  on  thy  brow — adorned  with  many  a  gem  ? 
I  know  thou  hast  believed  on  me,  and  life  through  me  is  thine ; 
But  where  are  all  those  radiant  stars  that  in  thy  crown  should  shine  ? 
*  Pablished  by  the  American  Tract  Society. 
02 


322  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Yonder  thou  seest  a  glorious  throng,  and  stars  on  every  brow ; 
For  every  soul  they  led  to  me  they  wear  a  jewel  now. 
And  such  thy  bright  reward  had  been  if  such  had  been  thy  deed, 
If  thou  hadst  sought  some  wandering  feet  in  paths  of  peace  to  lead. 
Thou  wert  not  called  that  thou  shouldst  tread  the  way  of  life  alone, 
But  that  the  clear  and  shining  light  which  round  thy  footsteps  shone 
Should  guide  some  other  weary  feet  to  my  bright  home  of  rest, 
And  thus,  in  blessing  those  around,  thou  hadst  thyself  been  blest." 

*  ******** 

The  vision  faded  from  my  sight,  the  voice  no  longer  spake, 
A  spell  seemed  brooding  o'er  my  soul  which  long  I  feared  to  break, 
And  when  at  last  I  gazed  around  in  morning's  glimmering  light, 
My  spirit  felt  o'erwhelmed  beneath  that  vision's  awful  might. 
I  rose  and  wept  with  chastened  joy  that  yet  I  dwelt  below, 
That  yet  another  hour  was  mine  my  faith  by  works  to  show ; 
That  yet  some  sinner  I  might  tell  of  Jesus'  dying  love, 
And  help  to  lead  some  weary  soul  to  seek  *  home  above. 
And  now,  while  on  the  earth  I  stay,  my  motto  this  shall  be, 
"  To  live  no  longer  to  myself,  but  Him  who  died  for  me." 
And  graven  on  my  inmost  soul  this  word  of  truth  divine, 
"  THey  that  turn  many  to  the  Lord  bright  as  the  stars  shall  shine." 


ONLY  WAITING. 
[A  very  aged  man,  in  an  alms-house,  was  asked  what  lie  was  doing  now. 
He  replied,  "  Only  waiting."] 

Only  waiting  till  the  shadows 

Are  a  little  longer  grown  ; 

Only  waiting  till  the  glimmer 

Of  the  day's  last  beam  is  flown ; 
Till  the  night  of  earth  is  faded 

From  the  heart  once  full  of  day ; 
Till  the  stars  of  heaven  are  breaking    1 
Through  the  twilight  soft  and  gray. 

Only  waiting  till  the  reapers 

Have  the  last  sheaf  gathered  home, 
For  the  summer-time  is  faded, 

And  the  autumn  winds  have  come. 
Quickly,  reapers !  gather  quickly 

The  last  ripe  hours  of  my  heart ; 
For  the  bloom  of  life  is  withered, 

And  I  hasten  to  depart. 
Only  waiting  till  the  angels 

Open  wide  the  mystic  gate, 
Where  I  so  long  have  lingered 

Weary,  poor,  and  desolate. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  323 

Even  now  I  hear  the  footsteps, 

And  their  voices  far  away ; 
If  they  call  me,  I  am  waiting — 

Only  waiting  to  obey. 

Only  waiting  till  the  shadows 

Are  a  little  longer  grown ; 
Only  waiting  till  the  glimmer 

Of  the  day's  last  beam  is  flown ; 
Then  from  out  the  gathering  darkness 

Holy,  deathless  stars  shall  rise, 
By  whose  light  my  soul  shall  gladly 

Tread  its  pathway  to  the  skies. 


"I'M  MUSTERED  OUT." 
Just  here,  in  the  shade  of  this  cannon-torn  tree, 
Here,  low  on  the  trampled  grass,  where  I  may  see 
The  surge  of  the  combat,  and  where  I  may  hear 
The  glad  cry  of  victory,  cheer  upon  cheer, 

Let  me  lie  down. 

— Oh,  it  was  grand ! 
Like  the  tempest  we  charged,  in  the  triumph  to  share! 
The  tempest — its  fury  and  thunder  were  there ; 
On,  on,  o'er  intrenchments,  o'er  living  and  dead, 
With  the  foe  under  foot,  and  our  flag  overhead : 
Oh,  it  was  grand ! 

Weary  and  faint, 
Prone  on  the  soldier's  couch,  ah !  how  can  I  rest 
With  this  shot-shattered  head  and  sabre-pierced  breast  ? 
Comrades,  at  roll-call,  when  I  shall  be  sought, 
Say  I  fought  till  I  fell,  and  fell  where  I  fought — 

Wounded  and  faint. 

Oh,  that  last  charge ! 
Right  through  the  dread  hell-fire  of  shrapnel  and  shell, 
Through  without  faltering — clear  through  with  a  yell, 
Right  in  their  midst,  in  the  turmoil  and  gloom, 
Like  heroes  we  dashed  at  the  mandate  of  doom. 

Oh,  that  last  charge ! 

^ft~was  duty. 
Some  things  are  worthless,  and  some  others  so  good 
That  nations  who  buy  them  pay  only  in  blood ; 
For  Freedom  and  Union  each  man  owes  a  part, 
And  here  I  pay  my  share  all  warm  from  my  heart : 
It  is  duty. 


324  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

Dying  at  last ! 
My  mother,  dear  .mother,  with  meek,  tearful  eye, 
Farewell ;  and  God  bless  you,  forever  and  aye ! 
Oh  that  I  now  lay  on  your  pillowing  breast, 
To  breathe  my  last  sigh  on  the  bosom  first  press'd : 
Dying  at  last ! 

I  am  no  saint ; 
But,  boys,  say  a  prayer.     There's  one  that  begins 
"  Our  Father,"  and  then  says, " Forgive  us  our  sins :" 
Don't  forget  that  part ;  say  that  strongly ;  and  then 
I'll  try  to  repeat  it,  and  you'll  say  Amen. 
Ah !  I'm  no  saint. 

Hark !  there's  a  shout ! 
Raise  me  up,  comrades — we  have  conquered,  I  know- 
Up,  on  my  feet,  with  my  face  to  the  foe. 
Ah !  there  flies  the  flag,  with  its  star-spangles  bright, 
The  promise  of  glory,  the  symbol  of  right. 

Well  may  they  shout. 

I'm  mustered  out. 
O  God  of  our  fathers,  our  freedom  prolong, 
And  tread  down  Rebellion,  Oppression,  and  Wrong ! 

0  land  of  earth's  hope,  on  thy  blood-reddened  sod, 

1  die  for  the  Nation,  the  Union,  and  God ! 

I'm  mustered  out. 


WHERE  DOES  THE  WATER  SPRING. 

Where  does  the  water  spring,  gladsome  and  bright  ? 

Here  in  the  leafy  grove, 

Bubbling  in  life  and  love, 
Born  of  the  sunshine,  up-leaping  to  light, 

Waked  in  its  pebbly  bed 

When  the  still  shadows  fled, 
Gushing,  o'erflowing,  down-tumbling  for  flight. 

Where  does  the  water  flow  ?    Where  glides  the  rill? 

Now  'neath  the  forest  shade, 

Then  in  the  grassy  glade, 
Dancing  as  freely  as  child  of  the  hill ; 

Bright  cascades  leaping, 

Silver  brooks  creeping, 
Wearing  the  mountains,  and  turning  the  mill. 
Where  does  the  water  dwell  powerful  and  grand  ? 

Here  where  the  ocean  foam 

Breaks  in  its  rocked-ribbed  home, 
Dashing,  land-lashing,  upbounding,  wrath  spanned  j 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  325 

Anon,  sweetly  sleeping, 
Soft  dimples  o'ercreeping, 
Like  a  babe  on  its  mother's  breast,  soothed  by  her  hand. 

"Where  smiles  the  dew-drop  the  night  shadows  woo  ? 

Where  the  young  flow'rets  dip, 

Leaving  each  perfumed  lip 
Close  in  the  rose's  heart,  loving  and  true ; 

Poised  on  an  emerald  shaft 

Where  never  sunbeam  laughed, 
Deep  in  the  dingle — the  beautiful  dew ! 


THE  BRIDES  OF  ENDERBY;  OR,  THE  HIGH  TIDE. 

Jean  Ingelow. 

The  old  mayor  climbed  the  belfry  tower, 
♦  The  ringers  ran  by  two,  by  three ; 

(/.)   ' '  Pull,  if  ye  never  pulled  before ; 

Good  ringers,  pull  your  best,"  quoth  he. 
"Play  uppe,  play  uppe,  oh  Boston  bells ! 
Ply  all  your  changes,  all  your  swells, 

Play  uppe  '  The  Brides  of  Enderby.'  " 
Men  say  it  was  a  stolen  tyde — 

The  Lord  that  sent  it,  He  knows  all ; 
But  in  myne  ears  doth  still  abide 

The  message  that  the  bells  let  fall : 
And  there  was  naught  of  strange  beside 
The  flights  of  mews  and  peewits  pied 

By  millions  crouched  on  the  old  sea  wall. 
I  sat  and  spun  within  the  doore ; 

My  thread  brake  off,  I  raised  myne  eyes  ; 
The  level  sun,  like  ruddy  ore, 

Lay  sinking  in  the  barren  skies ; 
And  dark  against  day's  golden  death 
She  moved  where  Lindis  wandereth, 
My  Sonne's  faire  wife,  Elizabeth. 

"  Cusha !  Cusha !  Cusha ! "  calling, 

Ere  the  early  dews  were  falling, 

Farre  away  I  heard  her  song. 
(/>.)       "  Cusha !  Cusha ! "  all  along ; 

Where. the  reedy  Lindis  floweth, 
Floweth,  floweth, 

From  the  meads  where  melick  groweth, 

Faintly  came  her  milking  song. 
(>)        "Cusha!  Cusha!  Cusha!"  calling, 

"For  the  dews  will  soone  be  falling0, 


326  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

Leave  your  meadow-grasses  mellow, 

Mellow,  mellow ; 
Quit  your  cowslips,  cowslips  yellow ; 
Come  uppe,  Whitefoot ;  come  uppe,  Lightfoot ; 
Quit  the  stalks  of  parsley  hollow, 

Hollow,  hollow ; 
Come  uppe,  Jetty,  rise  and  follow ; 
From  the  clovers  lift  your  head : 
Come  uppe,  Whitefoot ;  come  uppe,  Lightfoot : 
Come  uppe,  Jetty ;  rise  and  follow, 
Jetty,  to  the  milking-shed." 

If  it  be  long,  aye,  long  ago, 

When  I  beginne  to  think  howe  long, 

Againe  I  hear  the  Lindis  flow, 

Swift  as  an  arrowe,  sharpe  and  strong ; 

And  all  the  aire  it  seemeth  mee 

Bin  full  of  floating  bells,  (say th  shee), 

That  ring  the  tune  of  Enderby. 

Alle  fresh  the  level  pasture  lay, 
And  not  a  shadowe  mote  be  seene, 

Save  where  full  fyve  good  miles  away 
The  steeple  towered  from  out  the  greene ; 

And  lo !  the  great  bell  farre  and  wide 

Was  heard  in  all  the  country  side 

That  Saturday  at  eventide. 

The  swannerds  where  their  sedges  are 
Moved  on  in  sunset's  golden  breath, 
The  shepherd  lads  I  heard  afarre. 

And  my  Sonne's  wife,  Elizabeth ; 
Till  floating  o'er  the  grassy  sea 
Came  downe  that  kyndly  message  free, 
"The  Brides  of  Mavis  Enderby." 

Then  some  looked  uppe  into  the  sky, 
And  all  along  where  Lindis  flows 

To  where  the  goodly  vessels  lie, 
And  where  the  lordly  steeple  shows. 

They  sayde,  "And  why  should  this  thing  be? 

WTiat  danger  lowers  by  land  or  sea  ? 

They  ring  the  tune  of  Enderby ! 

"For  evil  news  from  Mablethorpe, 
Of  pyrate  galleys  warping  down ; 

For  shippes  ashore  beyond  the  scorpe, 
They  have  not  spared  to  wake  the  towne : 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  327 

But  while  the  west  bin  red  to  see, 
And  storms  be  none,  and  pyrates  flee, 
Why  ring  '  The  Brides  of  Enderby  ?'  " 

I  looked  without,  and  lo !  my  sonne 

Came  riding  downe  with  might  and  main : 

He  raised  a  shout  as  he  drew  on, 
Till  all  the  welkin  rang  again, 
(ff.)  " Elizabeth!  Elizabeth!" 

(A  sweeter  woman  ne'er  drew  breath 

Than  my  Sonne's  wife,  Elizabeth.) 

(ff.)  "  The  olde  sea  wall  (he  cried)  is  downe, 

The  rising  tide  comes  on  apace, 
And  boats  adrift  in  yonder  towne 

Go  sailing  uppe  the  market-place." 
He  shook  as  one  that  looks  on  death : 
"  God  save  you,  mother !"  straight  he  saith ; 
"  Where  is  my  wife,  Elizabeth  ?" 

* '  Good  sonne,  where  Lindis  winds  away, 

With  her  two  bairns  I  marked  her  long ; 
And  ere  yon  bells  beganne  to  play, 

Afar  I  heard  her  milking  song." 
He  looked  across  the  grassy  sea, 
To  right,  to  left,  (/.)  "  Ho  Enderby !" 
They  rang  "  The  Brides  of  Enderby !" 

With  that  he  cried  and  beat  his  breast ; 

For  lo !  along  the  river's  bed 
A  mighty  eygre  reared  his  crest, 

And  uppe  the  Lindis  raging  sped. 
It  swept  with  thunderous  noises  loud ; 
Shaped  like"  a  curling  snow-white  cloud, 
Or  like  a  demon  in  a  shroud. 

And  rearing  Lindis  backward  pressed, 

Shook  all  her  trembling  bankes  amaine ; 
Then  madly  at  the  eygre's  breast 

Flung  uppe  her  weltering  walls  again. 
Then  bankes  came  downe  with  ruin  and  rout- 
Then  beaten  foam  flew  round  about — 
Then  all  the  mighty  floods  were  out. 

So  farre,  so  fast  the  eygre  drave, 

The  heart  had  hardly  time  to  beat 
Before  a  shallow  seething  wave 

Sobbed  in  the  grasses  at  oure  feet  .• 


328  MANUAL   OF  READING. 

The  feet  had  hardly  time  to  flee 
Before  it  brake  against  the  knee, 
And  all  the  world  was  in  the  sea. 
Upon  the  roofe  we  sate  that  night, 

The  noise  of  bells  went  sweeping  by : 
I  marked  the  lofty  beacon-light 

Stream  from  the  church-tower  red  and  high- 
A  lurid  mark,  and  dread  to  see ; 
And  awsome  bells  they  were  to  mee, 
That  in  the  dark  rang  "  Enderby." 
They  rang  the  sailor  lads  to  guide 

From  roofe  to  roofe  who  fearless  rowed ; 
And  I — my  sonne  was  at  my  side, 

And  yet  the  ruddy  beacon  glowed : 
And  yet  he  moaned  beneath  his  breath, 
"  O  come  in  life,  or  come  in  death ! 
O  lost !  my  love,  Elizabeth." 
And  didst  thou  visit  him  no  more  ? 

Thou  didst,  thou  didst,  my  daughter  deare 
The  waters  laid  thee  at  his  doore 

Ere  yet  the  early  dawn  was  clear. 
Thy  pretty  bairns  in  fast  embrace, 
The  lifted  sun  shone  on  thy  face, 
Downe  drifted  to  thy  dwelling-place. 
That  flow  strewed  wrecks  about  the  grass, 

That  ebbe  swept  out  the  flocks  to  sea ; 
A  fatal  ebbe  and  flow,  alas ! 

To  manye  more  than  myne  and  me : 
But  each  will  mourn  his  own  (she  saith). 
And  sweeter  woman  ne'er  drew  breath 
Than  my  Sonne's  wife,  Elizabeth. 

I  shall  never  hear  her  more 

By  the  reedy  Lindis  shore, 
(>)      "  Cusha,  Cusha,  Cusha ! "  calling, 

Ere  the  early  dews  be  falling ; 

I  shall  never  hear  her  song, 
(/.)      "  Cusha,  Cusha !"  all  along, 

Where  the  sunny  Lindis  floweth, 
Goeth,  floweth ; 

From  the  meads  where  melick  groweth, 

When  the  water,  winding  down, 

Onward  floweth  to  the  town. 

I  shall  never  see  her  more 

Where  the  reeds  and  rushes  quiver, 
Shiver,  quiver ; 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  329 

Stand  beside  the  sobbing  river, 

Sobbing,  throbbing,  in  its  felling, 

To  the  sandy  lonesome  shore ; 

I  shall  never  hear  her  calling, 

"  Leave  your  meadow-grasses  mellow, 

Mellow,  mellow ; 
Quit  your  cowslips,  cowslips  yellow ; 
Come  uppe,  Whitefoot ;  come  uppe,  Lightfoot ; 
Quit  your  pipes  of  parsley  hollow, 

Hollow,  hollow ; 
Come  uppe,  Lightfoot,  rise  and  follow ; 

Lightfoot,  Whitefoot, 
From  your  clovers  lift  the  head ; 
Come  uppe,  Jetty ;  follow,  follow, 
Jetty,  to  the  milking-shed." 


THE  EVERLASTING  MEMORIAL. 

[From  "  Hymns  of  Hope  and  Faith."] 

HORATIUS  BONAB. 

Up  and  away,  like  the  dew  of  the  morning, 

Soaring  from  earth  to  its  home  in  the  sun ; 
So  let  me  steal  away,  gently  and  lovingly, 

Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

My  name,  and  my  place,  and  my  tomb  all  forgotten, 
The  brief  race  of  time  well  and  patiently  run, 

So  let  me  pass  away,  peacefully,  silently, 
Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

Gladly  away  from  this  toil  would  I  hasten, 

Up  to  the  crown  that  for  me  has  been  won ; 
Unthought  of  by  man  in  rewards  or  in  praises, 

Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

Up  and  away,  like  the  odors  of  sunset, 

That  sweeten  the  twilight  as  darkness  comes  on  ; 

So  be  my  life — a  thing  felt  but  not  noticed, 
And  I  but  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

Yes,  like  the  fragrance  that  wanders  in  freshness, 

When  the  flowers  that  it  came  from  are  closed  up  and  gone, 

So  would  I  be  to  this  world's  weary  dwellers, 
Only  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

Needs  there  the  praise  of  the  love-written  record, 
The  name  and  the  epitaph  graved  on  the  stone  ? 

The  things  we  have  lived  for — let  them  be  our  story, 
We  ourselves  but  remembered  by  what  we  have  done. 


330  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

I  need  not  be  missed  if  my  life  has  been  bearing 
(As  its  summer  and  autumn  moved  silently  on) 

The  bloom,  and  the  fruit,  and  the  seed  of  its  season ; 
I  shall  still  be  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 

I  need  not  be  missed  if  another  succeed  me 

To  reap  down  those  fields  which  in  spring  I  have  sown  ; 

He  who  plowed  and  who  sowed  is  not  missed  by  the  reaper, 
He  is  only  remembered  by  what  he  has  done. 

Not  myself,  but  the  truth  that  in  life  I  have  spoken — 
Not  myself,  but  the  seed  that  in  life  I  have  sown, 

Shall  pass  on  to  ages — all  about  me  forgotten, 

Save  the  truth  I  have  spoken,  the  things  I  have  done. 

So  let  my  living  be,  so  be  my  dying ; 

So  let  my  name  lie,  unblazoned,  unknown ; 
Unpraised  and  unmissed,  I  shall  still  be  remembered  y 

Yes — but  remembered  by  what  I  have  done. 


THE  WOULD  WOULD  BE  THE  BETTER  FOR  IT. 

If  men  cared  less  for  wealth  and  fame, 

And  less  for  battle-fields  and  glory ; 
If,  writ  in  human  hearts,  a  name 

Seemed  better  than  in  song  and  story  $ 
If  men,  instead  of  nursing  pride, 

Would  learn  to  hate  it  and  abhor  it ; 
If  more  relied  on  love  to  guide, 

The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 

If  men  dealt  less  in  stocks  and  lands, 

And  more  in  bonds  and  deeds  fraternal ; 
If  Love's  work  had  more  willing  hands 

To  link  this  world  to  the  supernal; 
If  men  stored  up  Love's  oil  and  wine, 

And  on  bruised  human  hearts  would  pour  it ; 
If  "  yours"  and  "  mine"  would  once  combine, 

The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 

If  more  would  act  the  play  of  life, 

And  fewer  spoil  it  in  rehearsal ; 
If  Bigotry  would  sheathe  its  knife 

Till  good  becomes  more  universal ; 
If  custom,  gray  with  ages  grown, 

Had  fewer  blind  men  to  adore  it ; 
If  talents  shone  in  Truth  alone, 

The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  331 

If  men  were  wise  in  little  things — 

Affecting  less  in  all  their  dealings — 
If  hearts  had  fewer  rusted  strings 

To  isolate  their  kindly  feelings ; 
If  men,  when  Wrong  beats  down  the  Right, 

Would  strike  together  and  restore  it ; 
If  Right  made  Might  in  every  fight, 

The  world  would  be  the  better  for  it. 


THANK  GOD,  THERE'S  STILL  A  VANGUARD. 

Mrs.  H.  E.  G.  Arbt. 

Thanh  God,  there's  still  a  vanguard 

Fighting  for  the  Right ; 
Though  the  throng  flock  to  rearward, 

Lifting  (ashen-white) 
Flags  of  truce  to  Sin  and  Error, 
Clasping  hands  mute  with  terror, 
Thank  God,  there's  still  a  vanguard 

Fighting  for  the  Right. 

Through  the  wilderness  advancing, 

Hewers  of  the  way ; 
Forward  far  their  spears  are  glancing, 

Flashing  back  the  day. 
"Back!"  the  leaders  cry  who  fear  them; 
"  Back !"  from  all  the  army  near  them ; 
They,  their  steady  tramp  advancing, 

Cleave  their  certain  way. 

Slay  them — from  each  drop  that  falleth 

Springs  a  hero  armed ; 
Where  the  martyr's  fire  appalleth, 

Lo !  they  pass  unharmed ; 
Crushed  beneath  thy  wheel,  Oppression, 
How  their  spirits  hold  possession — 
How  their  dross-purged  voice  outcalleth, 

By  the  death-throes  warmed ! 

Thank  God,  there's  still  a  vanguard 

Fighting  for  the  right ; 
Error's  legions  know  their  standard 

Floating  in  the  light. 
When  the  league  of  Sin  rejoices, 
Quick  outring  the  rallying  voices, 
Thank  God,  there's  still  a  vanguard 

Fighting  for  the  Right. 


332  MANUAL   OF  READING. 


CREEDS  OF  THE  BELLS. 

G.W.  Bungay. 

How  sweet  the  chime  of  the  Sabbath  bells ! 
Each  one  its  creed  in  music  tells, 
In  tones  that  float  upon  the  air, 
As  soft  as  song,  and  pure  as  prayer ; 
And  I  will  put  in  simple  rhyme 
The  language  of  the  golden  chime. 
My  happy  heart  with  rapture  swells 
Responsive  to  the  bells — sweet  bells. 

(high.)    * l  In  deeds  of  love  excel — excel, " 

Chimed  out  from  ivied  towers  a  bell ; 

(pure.)  "  This  is  the  church  not  built  on  sands, 
Emblem  of  one  not  built  with  hands  ; 
Its  forms  and  sacred  rites  revere, 
Come  worship  here — come  worship  here ; 
In  rituals  and  faith  excel, " 
Chimed  out  the  Episcopalian  bell. 

(low.)     "  Oh,  heed  the  ancient  landmarks  well," 
In  solemn  tones  exclaimed  a  bell ; 

(oro.)     "  No  progress  made  by  mortal  man 
Can  change  the  just,  eternal  plan. 
With  God  there  can  be  nothing  new ; 
Ignore  the  false,  embrace  the  true, 
While  all  is  well— is  well — is  well," 
Pealed  out  the  good  old  Dutch  Church  bell 

(pure.)  "  Oh  swell,  ye  purifying  waters,  swell," 
In  mellow  tones  rang  out  a  bell ; 
"  Though  faith  alone  in  Christ  can  save ; 
Man  must  be  plunged  beneath  the  wave, 
To  show  the  world  unfaltering  faith 
In  what  the  sacred  Scripture  saith. 
Oh  swell,  ye  rising  waters,  swell," 
Pealed  out  the  clear-toned  Baptist  bell. 

(p.)  "  Not  faith  alone,  but  works  as  well, 
Must  test  the  soul,"  said  a  soft  bell ; 
"  Come  here,  and  cast  aside  your  load, 
And  work  your  way  along  the  road, 
With  faith  in  God,  and  faith  in  man, 
And  hope  in  Christ,  where  hope  began : 

(echo.)    Do  well — do  well — do  well — do  well," 
Pealed  forth  the  Unitarian  bell. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  333 

{pro.)      "Farewell!  farewell!  base  world,  farewell," 
In  touching  tones  exclaimed  a  bell ; 
' '  Life  is  a  boon  to  mortals  given, 
To  fit  the  soul  for  bliss  in  heaven. 
Do  not  invoke  the  avenging  rod ; 
Come  here,  and  learn  the  way  to  God. 
Say  to  the  world  farewell!  farewell!" 
Pealed  out  the  Presbyterian  bell. 

(/?.)        "In  after  life  there  is  no  hell," 
In  rapture  rang  a  cheerful  bell ; 
"Look  up  to  Heaven  this  holy  day, 
Where  angels  wait  to  lead  the  way. 
There  are  no  fires,  no  fiends  to  blight 
The  future  life :  be  just  and  right. 
No  hell — no  hell — no  hell — no  hell," 
Rang  out  the  Universalist  bell. 

(pure.)  "  To  all  the  truth  we  tell— we  tell," 

Shouted,  in  ecstasies,  a  bell ; 

"  Come,  all  ye  weary  wanderers,  see! 

Our  Lord  has  made  salvation  free. 
(J'ast.)  Repent!  believe!  have  faith!  and  then 

Be  saved,  and  praise  the  Lord.     Amen. 

Salvation's  free  we  tell — we  tell," 

Shouted  the  Methodistic  bell. 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  SHIP. 

Longfellow, 

All  is  finished ;  and  at  length 

Has  come  the  bridal  day 

Of  beauty  and  of  strength. 
To-day  the  vessel  shall  be  launched ! 
With  fleecy  clouds  the  sky  is  blanched, 

And  o'er  the  bay, 
Slowly,  in  all  his  splendors  dight, 
Tfhe  great  sun  rises  to  behold  the  sight. 

The  ocean  old — centuries  old — 
Strong  as  youth,  and  as  uncontrolled, 

Paces  restless  to  and  fro, 
Up  and  down  the  sands  of  gold  ; 
His  beating  heart  is  not  at  rest ; 

And  far  and  wide, 

With  ceaseless  flow, 

His  beard  of  snow 
Heaves  with  the  heaving  of  his  breast. 


334  MANUAL    OF   HEADING. 

He  waits  impatient  for  his  bride. 

There  she  stands, 
Wilh  her  foot  upon  the  sands, 
Decked  with  flags  and  streamers  gay 

In  honor  of  her  marriage-day ; 
Her  snow-white  signals  fluttering,  blending 
Round  her  like  a  veil  descending, 

Ready  to  be 
The  bride  of  the  gray  old  sea. 


Then  the  master, 
With  a  gesture  of  command, 

Waved  his  hand ; 

And  at  the  word, 
Loud  and  sudden  there  was  heard, 
All  around  them  and  below, 
The  sound  of  hammers,  blow  on  blow, 
Knocking  away  the  shores  and  spurs. 

And  see !  she  stirs ! 
She  starts — she  moves — she  seems  to  feel 
The  thrill  of  life  along  her  keel, 
And,  spurning  with  her  foot  the  ground, 
With  one  exulting,  joyous  bound, 
She  leaps  into  the  ocean's  arms ! 

And  lo !  from  the  assembled  crowd 
There  rose  a  shout,  prolonged  and  loud, 
That  to  the  ocean  seemed  to  say, 
"  Take  her,  oh  bridegroom  old  and  gray, 
Take  her  to  thy  protecting  arms, 
With  all  her  youth  and  all  her  charms." 

How  beautiful  she  is !  how  fair 

She  lies  within  those  arms,  that  press 

Her  form  with  many  a  soft  caress 

Of  tenderness  and  watchful  care ! 

Sail  forth  upon  the  sea,  oh  ship ! 

Through  wind  and  wave  right  onward  steer  I 

The  moistened  eye,  the  trembling  lip, 

Are  not  the  signs  of  doubt  or  fear. 


Thou,  too,  sail  on,  oh  Ship  of  State ! 
Sail  on,  oh  Union,  strong  and  great ! 
Humanity,  with  all  its  fears, 
With  all  the  hopes  of  future  years, 
Is  hanging  breathless  on  thy  fate. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  335 

We  know  what  master  laid  thy  keel, 
What  workmen  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel, 
Who  made  each  mast,  and  sail,  and  rope, 
What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat, 
.  In  what  a  forge,  and  what  a  heat, 

Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  thy  hope. 

Fear  not  each  sudden  sound  and  shock, 

'Tis  of  the  wave,  and  not  the  rock ; 

'Tis  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail, 

And  not  a  rent  made  by  the  gale. 

In  spite  of  rock  and  tempest  roar, 

In  spite  of  false  lights  on  the  shore, 

Sail  on !  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea  j 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  are  all  with  thee. 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 

Our  faith,  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 

Are  all  with  thee — are  all  with  thee, 

EVENING  AT  THE  FARM. 

Over  the  hill  the  farm-boy  goes : 
His  shadow  lengthens  along  the  land ; 
A  giant  staff  in  a  giant  hand ; 
In  the  poplar-tree,  above  the  spring, 
The  katydid  begins  to  sing ; 

The  early  dews  are  falling : 
Into  the  stone-heap  darts  the  mink ; 
The  swallows  skim  the  river's  brink ; 
And  home  to  the  woodland  fly  the  crows, 
When  over  the  hill  the  farm-boy  goes, 
Cheerily  calling, 
(pure.)  "Co'  boss!  co'  boss!  co'!  co'!  co' !" 

Farther,  farther,  over  the  hill, 

Faintly  calling,  calling  still, 
(/>.)  " Co'  boss!  co'boss!  co'!  co'!  co'!" 

Into  the  yard  the  farmer  goes 
With  grateful  heart  at  the  close  of  day : 
Harness  and  chain  are  hung  away ; 
In  the  wagon-shed  stands  yoke  and  plow ; 
The  straw's  in  the  stack,  the  hay  in  the  mowf 

The  cooling  dews  are  falling : 
The  friendly  sheep  their  welcome  bleat, 
The  pigs  come  grunting  at  his  feet, 
And  the  whinnying  mare  her  master  knows 
When  into  the  yard  the  farmer  goes, 
His  cattle  calling, 


336  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

(pro.)  "  Co'  boss  !  co'  boss !  co' !  co' !  co' !" 

While  still  the  cow-boy,  far  away, 
Goes  seeking  those  that  have  gone  astray, 
(pp.)  "  Co'  boss !  co'  boss !  co' !  co' !  co' !" 

Now  to  her  task  the  milkmaid  goes  : 
The  cattle  come  crowding  through  the  gate, 
Lowing,  pushing,  little  and  great ; 
About  the  trough,  by  the  farm-yard  pump, 
The  frolicsome  yearlings  frisk  and  jump, 

While  the  pleasant  dews  are  falling : 
The  new  milch  heifer  is  quick  and  shy, 
But  the  old  cow  waits  with  tranquil  eye, 
And  the  white  stream  into  the  bright  pail  flows 
When  to  her  task  the  milkmaid  goes, 
Soothingly  calling, 
(pure.)  '"'SOjboss!  so, boss!  so!  so!  so!" 

The  cheerful  milkmaid  takes  her  stool, 
And  sits  and  milks  in  the  twilight  cool, 
Saying  "So!  so, boss!  so!  so!" 
To  supper  at  last  the  farmer  goes : 
The  apples  are  pared,  the  paper  read, 
The  stories  are  told,  then  all  to  bed. 
Without,  the  cricket's  ceaseless  song 
Makes  shrill  the  silence  all  night  long  ; 

The  heavy  dews  are  falling : 
The  housewife's  hand  has  turned  the  lock ; 
Drowsily  ticks  the  kitchen  clock ; 
The  household  sinks  to  deep  repose, 
But  still  in  sleep  the  farm-boy  goes, 
Singing,  calling, 
(sleepy.)  "Co' boss!  co'boss!  co' !  co'!  co'!" 

And  oft  the  milkmaid,  in  her  dreams, 
Drums  in  the  pail  with  the  flashing  stream, 
Murmuring  "  So,  boss !  so !" 


THE  NEWS  OF  A  DAY. 

Mrs.  S.  T.  Bolton. 

(falsetto.)    "  Great  battle !  Times  extra !"  the  newsboy  cried, 
But  it  scarcely  rippled  the  living  tide 
That  ebbed  and  flowed  in  the  busy  street, 
With  its  throbbing  hearts  and  its  restless  feet. 
Again  through  the  hum  of  the  city  thrilled — 

(falsetto.)  "  Great  battle !  Times  extra!  Ten  thousand  killed!" 
And  the  little  carrier  hurried  away 
With  the  sorrowful  news  of  that  winter-day. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  337 

To  a  dreary  room  in  the  attic  high 
Trembled  the  words  of  that  small,  sharp  cry, 
And  a  lonely  widow  bowed  down  her  head 
And  murmured, ' '  Willie — my  Willie  is  dead ! 
Oh,  I  feared  it  was  not  an  idle  dream 
That  led  me,  last  night,  to  that  deep,  dark  stream, 
Where  the  ground  was  wet  with  a  crimson  rain, 
And  strewn  all  over  with  ghastly  slain ! 
The  stars  were  dim,  for  the  night  was  wild, 
But  1  threaded  the  gloom  till  I  found  my  child. 

*'  The  cold  rain  fell  on  his  upturned  face, 
And  the  swift  destroyer  had  left  no  trace 
Of  the  sudden  blow  and  the  quick,  sharp  pain, 
But  a  little  wound  and  a  purple  stain. 
I  tried  to  speak,  but  my  voice  was  gone, 
And  my  soul  stood  there  in  the  cold  gray  dawn 
Till  they  rifled  his  body  with  ruthless  hand, 
And  covered  him  up  with  the  reeking  sand. 

"  Willie !  oh,  Willie !  it  seems  but  a  day 
Since  thy  baby-head  on  my  bosom  lay — 
Since  I  heard  thy  prattle  so  soft  and  sweet, 
And  guided  the  steps  of  thy  tottering  feet ; 
And  thou  wert  the  fairest  and  last  of  three 
That  the  Father  in  heaven  had  given  to  me. 
All  the  life  of  my  heart — love,  hope,  and  joy — 
Were  treasured  in  thee,  my  strong,  brave  boy ; 
And  the  last  faint  words  that  thy  father  said 
Were,  *  Willie  will  mind  thee  when  I  am  dead. ' 
But  they  tore  the  flag  from  thy  death-cold  handa 
And  covered  thee  up  in  the  reeking  sand." 

She  read  the  names  of  the  missing  and  slain, 
But  one  she  read  over  again  and  again ; 
And  the  sad,  low  words  that  her  white  lips  said 
Were,4 'Company  C,  William  Warren — dead." 
The  world  toiled  on  through  the  busy  street, 
With  its  aching  hearts  and  unresting  feet ; 
The  night  came  down  to  her  cold  hearth-stone, 
And  she  still  read  on  in  the  same  low  tone ; 
And  still  the  words  that  her  white  lips  said 
Were,"  Company  C,  William  Warren — dead."' 

The  light  of  the  morning  chased  the  gloom 
From  the  emberless  hearth  of  that  attic  room, 
And  the  city's  pulses  throbbed  again, 
Bat  the  mother's  heart  had  forgotten  its  psfc 
P 


338  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

She  had  gone  through  the  gates  to  the  better  land 
With  that  terrible  list  in  her  pale,  cold  hand — 
With  her  white  lips  parted,  as  last  she  said, 
" Company  C,  William  Warren — dead!" 


"BORROBOOLA  GHA." 

A  stranger  preached  last  Sunday, 

And  crowds  of  people  came 
To  hear  a  two-hour  sermon 

With  a  barbarous  sounding  name. 
'Twas  all  about  some  heathens 

Thousands  of  miles  afar, 
Who  lived  in  a  land  of  darkness, 

Called  Borroboola  Gha. 

So  well  their  wants  he  pictured, 

That,  when  the  plates  were  passed, 
Each  listener  felt  his  pockets, 

And  goodly  sums  were  cast ; 
For  all  must  lend N  a  shoulder 

To  push  a  rolling  car 
That  carries  light  and  comfort 

To  " Borroboola  Gha." 

That  night  their  wants  and  sorrows 

Lay  heavy  on  my  soul, 
And  deep  in  meditation 

I  took  my  morning  stroll, 
Till  something  caught  my  mantle 

With  eager  grasp  and  wild, 
And,  looking  down  with  wonder, 

I  saw  a  little  child — 

A  pale  and  puny  creature, 

In  rags  and  dirt  forlorn. 
What  could  she  want  ?  I  questioned, 

Impatient  to  be  gone. 
With  trembling  voice  she  answered, 

"  We  live  just  down  the  street, 
And  mammy  she's  a  dyin', 

And  we've  nothin'  left  to  eat." 

Down  in  a  wretched  basement, 
With  mould  upon  the  walls, 

Through  whose  half-buried  windows 
God's  sunshine  never  falls — 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  339 

Where  cold,  and  want,  and  hunger 

Crouched  near  her  as  she  lay, 
I  found  a  fellow-creature 

Gasping  her  life  away. 

A  chair,  a  broken  table, 

A  bed  of  dirty  straw, 
A  hearth  all  dark  and  cheerless — 

But  these  I  scarcely  saw 
For  the  mournful  sight  before  me — 

The  sad  and  sickening  show. 
Oh,  never  had  I  pictured 

A  scene  so  full  of  woe. 

The  famished  and  the  naked, 

The  babes  that  pined  for  bread, 
The  squalid  group  that  huddled 

Around  the  dying  bed — 
All  this  distress  and  sorrow 

Should  be  in  lands  afar  : 
Was  I  suddenly  transplanted 

To  "BorroboolaGha?" 

Ah !  no ;  the  poor  and  wretched 

Were  close  behind  the  door, 
And  I  had  passed  them  heedless 

A  thousand  times  before. 
Alas !  for  the  cold  and  hungry 

That  met  me  every  day, 
While  all  my  tears  were  given 

To  the  suffering  far  away. 

There's  work  enough  for  Christians 

In  distant  lands,  we  know ; 
Our  Lord  commands  his  servants 

Through  all  the  world  to  go. 
Not  only  for  the  heathen. 

This  was  the  charge  to  them : 
"  Go  preach  the  Word,  beginning 

First  at  Jerusalem." 

Oh,  Christian,  God  has  promised 

Whoe'er  to  thee  has  given 
A  cup  of  pure  cold  water 

Shall  find  reward  in  heaven. 
Would  you  secure  the  blessing, 

You  need  not  seek  it  far ; 
Go  find  in  yonder  hovel 

A  "  Borroboola  Gha." 


340  MANUAL   OF   READING. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  MARINER. 

Mrs.  Southey. 
Launch  thy  bark,  mariner ; 

Christian,  God  speed  thee ! 
Let  loose  the  rudder-bands  ; 

Good  angels  lead  thee  i 
Set  thy  sails  warily— 

Tempests  will  come ; 
Steer  thy  course  steadily ; 

Christian,  steer  home ! 

Look  to  the  weather-bow — 

Breakers  are  round  thee ; 
Let  fall  the  plummet  now — 

Shallows  may  ground  thee. 
Reef  in  the  foresail,  there ! 

Hold  the  helm  fast ! 
So ! — let  the  vessel  wear : 

There  swept  the  blast. 

(calling.)  "  What  of  the  night,  watchman— 

What  of  the  night?" 
{pro.)         "  Cloudy — all  quiet — 

No  land  yet — all's  right." 
Be  wakeful — be  vigilant ; 

Danger  may  be 
At  an  hour  when  all  seemeth 
Securest  to  thee. 

(/.)  Plow  gains  the  leak  so  fast  ? 

Clean  out  the  hold  ; 
Hoist  up  the  merchandise, 

Heave  out  the  gold. 
There !  let  the  ingots  go ; 
Now  the  ship  rights. 
(ff.)  Hurrah !  the  harbor's  near : 

Lo !  the  red  lights. 

Slacken  not  sail  yet 
At  inlet  or  island ; 
Straight  for  the  beacon  steer- 
Straight  for  the  highland. 
Crowd  all  thy  canvas  on ; 
Cut  through  the  foam ; 
f  .      x     (Christian,  cast  anchor  now; 
\Heaven  is  thy  home ! 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  341 


NO  SECT  IN  HEAVEN. 

Mrs.  Cleveland. 
Talking  of  sects  till  late  one  eve — 
Of  the  various  doctrines  the  saints  believe, 
That  night  I  stood,  in  a  troubled  dream, 
By  the  side  of  a  darkly  flowing  stream. 

And  a  "Churchman"  down  to  the  river  came, 
When  I  heard  a  strange  voice  call  his  name. 
"Good  father,  stop  ;  when  you  cross  the  tide, 
You  must  leave  your  robes  on  the  other  "side." 

But  the  aged  father  did  not  mind, 
And  his  long  robe  floated  out  behind 
As  down  to  the  stream  his  way  he  took, 
His  pale  hands  clasping  a  gilt-edged  book. 

"  I'm  bound  for  heaven,  and,  when  I'm  there, 
I  shall  want  my  Book  of  Common  Prayer ; 
And,  though  I  put  on  a  starry  crown, 
I  should  feel  quite  lost  without  my  gown." 

Then  he  fixed  his  eye  on  the  shining  track, 
But  his  gown  was  heavy,  and  held  him  back, 
And  the  poor  old  father  tried  in  vain 
A  single  step  in  the  flood  to  gain. 

I  saw  him  again  on  the  other  side, 
But  his  silk  gown  floated  on  the  tide ; 
And  no  one  asked,  in  that  blissful  spot, 
Whether  he  belonged  to  "the  Church"  or  not. 

Then  down  to  the  river  a  "Quaker"  strayed: 
His  dress  of  a  sober  hue  was  made. 
"My  coat  and  hat  must  be  all  of  gray  ; 
I  can  not  go  any  other  way." 

Then  he  buttoned  his  coat  straight  up  to  his  chin, 

And  steadily,  solemnly  waded  in, 

And  his  broad-brimmed  hat  he  pulled  down  tight 

Over  his  forehead,  so  cold  and  white. 

But  a  strong  wind  carried  away  his  hat : 

A  moment  he  silently  sighed  over  that  ; 

And  then,  as  he  gazed  to  the  farther  shore, 

The  coat  slipped  off,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

As  he  entered  heaven,  his  suit  of  gray 

Went  quietly  sailing  away — away, 

And  none  of  the  angels  questioned  him 

About  the  width  of  his  beaver's  brim. 


342  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

Next  came  Dr.  Watts,  with  a  bundle  of  psalms 

Tied  nicely  up  in  his  aged  arms, 

And  hymns  as  many — a  very  wise  thing — 

That  the  people  of  heaven  "all  round"  might  sing, 

But  I  thought  he  heaved  an  anxious  sigh 
As  he  saw  that  the  river  ran  broad  and  high ; 
And  he  looked  rather  surprised  as,  one  by  one, 
The  psalms  and  hymns  in  the  wave  went  down. 

And  after  him,  with  his  MSS., 

Came  Wesley,  the  pattern  of  godliness  ; 

But  he  cried, "  Dear  me,  what  shall  I  do  ? 

The  water  has  soaked  them  through  and  through." 

And  there  on  the  river,  far  and  wide, 
Away  they  went  down  the  swollen  tide, 
And  the  saint,  astonished,  passed  through  alone, 
Without  his  manuscripts,  up  to  the  throne. 

Then,  gravely  walking,  two  saints  by  name 
Down  to  the  stream  together  came ; 
But,  as  they  stopped  at'the  river  brink, 
I  saw  one  saint  from  the  other  shrink. 

"  Sprinkled  or  plunged — may  I  ask  you,  friend, 
How  you  attained  to  life's  great  end?" 
"Thus,  with  a  few  drops  on  my  brow." 
"  But /have  been  dipped,  as  you'll  see  me  now; 

And  I  really  think  it  will  hardly  do, 
As  I'm  close  communion,  to  cross  with  you. 
You're  bound,  I  know,  to  the  realms  of  bliss ; 
But  you  must  go  that  way,  and  I'll  go  this." 

Then  straightway  plunging,  with  all  his  might, 
Away  to  the  left — his  friend  to  the  right, 
Apart  they  went  from  this  world  of  pain, 
But  at  last  together  they  entered  in. 

And  now,  when  the  river  was  rolling  on, 

A  Presbyterian  Church  went  down  ; 

Of  women  there  seemed  an  innumerable  throng, 

But  the  men  I  could  count  as  they  passed  along, 

And  concerning  the  road  they  could  never  agree  s 
The  old  or  the  new  way — which  it  should  be  ; 
Nor  ever  a  moment  paused  to  think 
That  both  would  lead  to  the  river's  brink. 

And  a  sound  of  murmuring,  long  and  loud, 
Came  ever  up  from  the  moving  crowd : 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  343 

"  You're  in  the  old  way,  I'm  in  the  new ; 
That  is  the  false,  and  this  is  the  true ;" 
Or, "  I'm  in  the  old  way,  and  you're  in  the  new ; 
That  is  the  false,  and  this  is  the  true." 

I  watched  them  long  in  my  curious  dream 

Till  they  stood  by  the  borders  of  the  stream; 

Then,  just  as  I  thought,  the  two  ways  met ; 

But  all  the  brethren  were  talking  yet, 

And  would  talk  on  till  the  heaving  tide 

Carried  them  over,  side  by  side — 

Side  by  side,  for  the  way  was  one. 

The  toilsome  journey  of  life  was  done, 

And  priest,  and  Quaker,  and  all  who  died, 

Came  out  alike  on  the  other  side. 

No  forms,  no  crosses,  or  books  had  they— 

No  gowns  of  silk,  or  suits  of  gray — 

No  creeds  to  guide  them,  or  MSS., 

For  all  had  put  on  Christ's  righteousness. 


JOHN  BURNS,  OF  GETTYSBURG. 

Bret  Harte. 

Have  you  heard  the  story  that  gossips  tell 

Of  Burns  of  Gettysburg  ?    No  ?    Ah !  well  : 

Brief  is  the  glory  that  hero  earns, 

Briefer  the  story  of  poor  John  Burns  : 

He  was  the  fellow  who  won  renown — 

The  only  man  who  didn't  back  down 

When  the  rebels  rode  through  his  native  town ; 

But  held  his  own  in  the  fight  next  day, 

When  all  his  townsfolk  ran  away. 

That  was  in  July,  sixty-three, 

The  very  day  that  General  Lee, 

Flower  of  Southern  chivalry, 

Baffled  and  beaten,  backward  reeled 

From  a  stubborn  Meade  and  a  barren  field. 

I  might  tell  how,  but  the  day  before, 
John  Burns  stood  at  his  cottage  door, 
Looking  down  the  village  street, 
Where,  in  the  shade  of  his  peaceful  vine, 
He  heard  the  low  of  his  gathered  kine, 
And  felt  their  breath  with  incense  sweet ; 
Or  I  might  say,  when  the  sunset  burned 
The  old  farm  gable,  he  thought  it  turned 
The  milk  that  fell,  in  a  babbling  flood 


344  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Into  the  milk-pail,  red  as  blood ! 

Or  how  he  fancied  the  hum  of  bees 

Were  bullets  buzzing  among  the  trees. 

But  all  such  fanciful  thoughts  as  these 

Were  strange  to  a  practical  man  like  Burns, 

Who  minded  only  his  own  concerns, 

Troubled  no  more  by  fancies  fine 

Than  one  of  his  calm-eyed,  long-tailed  kine— 

Quite  old-fashioned  and  matter-of-fact, 

Slow  to  argue,  but  quick  to  act. 

That  was  the  reason,  as  some  folks  say, 

He  fought  so  well  on  that  terrible  day. 

And  it  was  terrible.     On  the  right 

Raged  for  hours  the  heavy  fight, 

Thundered  the  battery's  double  bass — 

Difficult  music  for  men  to  face  : 

While  on  the  left — where  now  the  graves 

Undulate  like  the  living  waves 

That  all  that  day  unceasing  swept 

Up  to  the  pits  the  rebels  kept — 

Round  shot  plowed  the  upland  glades : 

Sown  with  bullets,  reaped  with  blades ; 

Shattered  fences  here  and  there 

Tossed  their  splinters  in  the  air ; 

The  very  trees  were  stripped  and  bare ; 

The  barns  that  once  held  yellow  grain 

Were  heaped  with  harvests  of  the  slain ; 

The  cattle  bellowed  on  the  plain, 

The  turkeys  screamed  with  might  and  maina 

And  brooding  barn-fowl  left  their  rest 

With  strange  shells  bursting  in  each  nest. 

Just  where  the  tide  of  battle  turns, 

Erect  and  lonely  stood  old  John  Burns. 

How  do  you  think  the  man  was  dressed  ? 

He  wore  an  ancient  long  buff  vest, 

Yellow  as  saffron — but  his  best ; 

And  buttoned  over  his  manly  breast 

Was  a  bright  blue  coat,  with  a  rolling  collar, 

And  large  gilt  buttons— size  of  a  dollar— 

With  tails  that  the  country-folk  called  "swaller.1 

He  wore  a  broad-brimmed,  bell-crowned  hat, 

White  as  the  locks  on  which  it  sat. 

Never  had  such  a  sight  been  seen 

For  forty  years  on  the  village  green, 

Since  old  John  Burns  was  a  country  beau, 

And  went  to  the  "  quillings"  long  ago. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  345 

Close  at  his  elbows  all  that  day, 

Veterans  of  the  Peninsula, 

Sunburnt  and  bearded,  charged  away : 

And  striplings,  downy  of  lip  and  chin — 

Clerks  that  the  Home  Guard  mustered  in — 

Glanced,  as  they  passed,  at  the  hat  he  wore, 

Then  at  the  rifle  his  right  hand  bore, 

And  hailed  him,  from  out  their  youthful  lore, 

With  scraps  of  a  slangy  repertoire : 

"  How  are  you, White  Hat !"  " Put  her  through!" 

"  Your  head's  level,"  and  "  Bully  for  you !" 

Called  him  "  Daddy" — begged  he'd  disclose 

The  name  of  the  tailor  who  made  his  clothes, 

And  what  was  the  value  he  set  on  those ; 

While  Burns,  unmindful  of  jeer  and  scoff, 

Stood  there  picking  the  rebels  off— 

With  his  long  brown  rifle,  and  bell-crown  hat, 

And  the  swallow-tails  they  were  laughing  at. 

'Twas  but  a  moment,  for  that  respect 

Which  clothes  all  courage  their  voices  checked ; 

And  something  the  wildest  could  understand 

Spake  in  the  old  man's  strong  right  hand ; 

And  his  corded  throat,  and  the  lurking  frown 

Of  his  eyebrows  under  his  old  bell-crown ; 

Until,  as  they  gazed,  there  crept  an  aw» 

Through  the  ranks  in  whispers,  and  some  men  saw, 

In  the  antique  vestments  and  long  white  hair, 

The  Past  of  the  Nation  in  battle  there ; 

And  some  of  the  soldiers  since  declare 

JThat  the  gleam  of  his  old  white  hat  afar, 

Like  the  crested  plume  of  the  brave  Navarre, 

That  day  was  their  oriflamme  of  war. 

So  raged  the  battle.     You  know  the  rest : 
How  the  rebels,  beaten  and  backward  pressed, 
Broke  at  the  final  charge,  and  ran, 
At  which  John  Burns — a  practical  man — 
Shouldered  his  rifle,  unbent  his  brows, 
And  then  went  back  to  his  bees  and  cows. 

That  is  the  story  of  old  John  Burns ; 
This  is  the  moral  the  reader  learns : 
In  fighting  the  battle,  the  question's  whether 
You'll  show  a  hat  that's  white  or  a  feather ! 
P2 


346  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

ANNIE  AND  WILLIE'S  PRAYER. 

Mrs.  Sophia  P.  Snow. 
Twas  the  eve  before  Christmas ;  "  Good-night"  had  been  said, 
And  Annie  and  Willie  had  crept  into  bed ; 
There  were  tears  on  their  pillows,  and  tears  in  their  eyes, 
And  each  little  bosom  was  heaving  with  sighs, 
For  to-night  their  stern  father's  command  had  been  given 
That  they  should  retire  precisely  at  seven 
Instead  of  at  eight ;  for  they  troubled  him  more 
With  questions  unheard  of  than  ever  before  : 
He  had  told  them  he  thought  this  delusion  a  sin — 
No  such  being  as  "Santa  Claus"  ever  had  been — 
And  he  hoped  after  this  he  should  nevermore  hear 
How  he  scrambled  down  chimneys  with  presents  each  year.        •  ' 
And  this  was  the  reason  that  two  little  heads 
So  restlessly  tossed  on  their  soft,  downy  beds. 
Eight,  nine,  and  the  clock  on  the  steeple  tolled  ten ; 
Not  a  word  had  been  spoken  by  either  till  then, 
When  Willie's  sad  face  from  the  blanket  did  peep, 
And  whispered, "  Dear  Annie,  is  yon  fast  asleep  ?" 
44  Why  no,  Brother  Willie,"  a  sweet  voice  replies, 
44  I've  tried  in  vain,  but  I  can't  shut  my  eyes, 
For  somehow  it  makes  me  sorry  because 
Dear  papa  has  said  there  is  no  *  Santa  Claus. ' 
Now  we  know  there  is,  and  it  can't  be  denied, 
For  he  came  every  year  before  mamma  died : 
But  then,  I've  been  thinking  that  she  used  to  pray, 
And  God  would  hear  every  thing  mamma  would  say ; 
And  perhaps  she  asked  him  to  send  Santa  Claus  here, 
With  the  sack  full  of  presents  he  brought  every  year  r 
"  Well,  why  tan't  we  pay  dest  as  mamma  did  then, 
And  ask  Dod  to  send  him  with  presents  aden  ?" 
"I've  been  thinking  so  too,"  and,  without  a  word  more, 
Four  little  bare  feet  bounded  out  on  the  floor, 
And  four  little  knees  the  soft  carpet  pressed, 
And  two  tiny  hands  were  clasped  close  to  each  breast. 
44  Now,  Willie,  you  know,  we  must  firmly  believe 
That  the  presents  we  ask  for  we're  sure  to  receive  ; 
You  must  wait  just  as  still  till  I  say  the  4Amen,' 
And  by  that  you  will  know  that  your  turn  has  come  thea 
4  Dear  Jesus,  look  down  on  my  brother  and  me, 
And  grant  us  the  favor  we  are  asking  of  thee. 
I  want  a  wax  dolly,  a  tea-set  and  ring, 
And  an  ebony  work-box  that  shuts  with  a  spring. 
Bless  papa,  dear  Jesus,  and  cause  him  to  see 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  347 

That  Santa  Claus  loves  us  far  better  than  he ; 
Don't  let  him  get  fretful  and  angry  again 
At  dear  brother  Willie  and  Annie.     Amen.'  " 
"Please,  Desus,  et  Santa  Taus  turn  down  to-night, 
And  bing  us  some  pesents  before  it  is  ight ; 
I  want  he  should  div  me  a  nice  ittle  sed, 
With  bright  shinin  unners  and  all  painted  ed  ; 
A  box  full  of  tandy,  a  book,  and  a  toy — 
Amen — and  den,  Desus, I'll  be  a  dood  boy." 

Their  prayers  being  ended,  they  raised  up  their  heads, 
And,  with  hearts  light  and  cheerful,  again  sought  their  bedg ; 
They  were  soon  lost  in  slumber  both  peaceful  and  deep, 
And  with  fairies  in  Dreamland  were  roaming  in  sleep. 

Eight,  nine,  and  the  little  French  clock  had  struck  ten, 

Ere  the  father  had  thought  of  his  children  again ; 

He  seems  now  to  hear  Annie's  half-suppressed  sighs, 

And  to  see  the  big  tears  stand  in  Willie's  blue  eyes ; 

"I  was  harsh  with  my  darlings," he  mentally  said, 

"And  should  not  have  sent  them  so  early  to  bed  ; 

But  then  I  was  troubled,  my  feelings  found  vent, 

For  bank  stock  to-day  has  come  down  ten  per  cent. 

But  of  course  they've  forgotten  their  troubles  ere  this, 

And  that  I  denied  them  the  thrice  asked  for  kiss ; 

But,  just  to  make  sure,  I'll  steal  up  to  their  door, 

For  I  never  spoke  harsh  to  my  darlings  before." 

So  saying,  he  softly  ascended  the  stairs, 

And  arrived  at  the  door  to  hear  both  of  their  prayers ; 

His  Annie's  "  bless  papa"  draws  forth  the  big  tears, 

And  Willie's  grave  promise  falls  sweet  on  his  ears. 

*•  Strange,  strange,  I'd  forgotten,"  said  he,  with  a  sigh, 

"  How  I  longed  when  a  child  to  have  Christmas  draw  nigh, 

I'll  atone  for  my  harshness,"  he  inwardly  said, 

"By  answering  their  prayers  ere  I  sleep  in  my  bed."  "> 

Then  he  turned  to  the  stairs,  and  softly  went  down, 
Threw  off  velvet  slippers  and  silk  dressing-gown, 
Donned  hat,  coat,  and  boots,  and  was  out  in  the  street, 
A  millionaire  facing  the  cold,  driving  sleet, 
Nor  stopped  he  until  he  had  bought  every  thing, 
From  the  box  full  of  candy  to  the  tiny  gold  ring ; 
Indeed  he  kept  adding  so  much  to  his  store 
That  the  various  presents  outnumbered  a  score ; 
Then  homeward  he  turned  with  his  holiday  load, 
And,  with  Aunt  Mary's  help,  in  the  nursery  'twas  stowed. 
Miss  Dolly  was  seated  beneath  a  pine-tree, 
By  the  side  of  a  table  spread  out  for  her  tea ; 


348  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

A  work-box  well  filled  in  the  centre  was  laid, 
And  on  it  the  ring  for  which  Annie  had  prayed. 
A  soldier  in  uniform  stood  by  a  sled, 
"  With  bright  shining  runners  and  painted  all  red." 
There  were  balls,  dogs,  and  horses,  books  pleasing  to  see, 
And  birds  of  all  colors  were  perched  in  the  tree, 
While  Santa  Claus,  laughing,  stood  up  in  the  top, 
As  if  getting  ready  more  presents  to  drop ; 
And,  as  the  fond  father  the  picture  surveyed, 
He  thought  for  his  trouble  he  had  amply  been  paid, 
And  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  brushed  off  a  tear, 
"  I'm  happier  to-night  than  I've  been  for  a  year ; 
I've  enjoyed  more  true  pleasure  than  ever  before — 
What  care  I  if  bank  stock  falls  ten  per  cent.  more.     . 
Hereafter  I'll  make  it  a  rule,  I  believe, 
To  have  Santa  Claus  visit  us  each  Christmas  Eve." 
So  thinking,  he  gently  extinguished  the  light, 
And  tripped  down  the  stairs  to  retire  for  the  night. 
As  soon  as  the  beams  of  the  bright  morning  sun 
Put  the  darkness  to  flight,  and  the  stars  one  by  one, 
Four  little  blue  eyes  out  of  sleep  opened  wide, 
And  at  the  same  moment  the  presents  espied. 
Then  out  of  their  beds  they  sprang  with  a  bound, 
And  the  very  gifts  prayed  for  were  all  of  them  found ; 
They  laughed  and  they  cried  in  their  innocent  glee, 
And  shouted  for  "papa"  to  come  quick  and  see 
What  presents  old  Santa  Claus  brought  in  the  night 
(Just  the  things  that  they  wanted),  and  left  before  light  5 
"And  now,"  added  Annie,  in  voice  soft  and  low, 
"You'll  believe  there's  a  *  Santa  Claus, '  papa,  I  know." 
While  dear  little  Willie  climbed  up  on  his  knee, 
Determined  no  secret  between  them  should  be, 
And  told  in  soft  whispers  how  Annie  had  said 
That  their  dear,  blessed  mamma,  so  long  ago  dead, 
Used  to  kneel  down  and  pray  by  the  side  of  her  chair, 
And  that  God,  up  in  heaven,  had  answered  her  prayer. 
"  Then  we  dot  up  and  prayed  dest  as  well  as  we  tould, 
And  Dod  answered  our  prayers— now  wasn't  he  dood?" 
"  I  should  say  that  he  was,  if  he  sent  you  all  these, 
And  know  just  what  presents  my  children  would  please. 
(Well,  well,  let  him  think  so,  the  dear  little  elf, 
'Twould  be  cruel  to  tell  him  I  did  it  myself.)" 
Blind  father !  who  caused  your  stern  heart  to  relent, 
And  the  hasty  words  spoken  so  soon  to  repent  ? 
'Twas  the  Being  who  made  you  steal  softly  up  stairs, 
And  made  you  His  agent  to  answer  their  prayers. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  349 


THE  SOUL-DIRGE. 

A.  Cleveland  Coxe. 

The  organ  played  sweet  music 

The  while,  on  Easter-day, 
All  heartless  from  the  altar  t 

The  Jieedless  went  away ; # 
And,  down  the  broad  aisle  crowding, 

They  seemed  a  funeral  train, 
That  were  burying  their  spirits 

To  the  music  of  that  strain. 

As  I  listened  to  the  organ, 

And  saw  them  crowd  along, 
I  thought  I  heard  two  voices 

Speaking  strangely,  but  not  strong. 
And  one  it  whispered  sadly, 

"  Will  ye  also  go  away  ?" 
But  the  other  spoke,  exulting, 

"  Ha !  the  soul-dirge — hear  it  play !" 

Hear  the  soul-dirge !  hear  the  soul-dirge 

And  see  the  feast  divine ! 
Ha !  the  jewels  of  salvation, 

And  the  trampling  feet  of  swine ! 
Hear  the  soul-dirge !  hear  the  soul-dirge ! 

Little  think  they,  as  they  go, 
What  priceless  pearls  they  tread  on, 

Who  spurn  their  Savior  so. 
Hear  the  soul-dirge !  hear  the  soul-dirge  2 

It  was  dread  to  hear  it  play, 
WThile  the  Famishing  were  crowding 

From  the  Bread  of  Life  away. 
They  were  bidden,  they  were  bidden 

To  their  Father's  festal  board, 
But  they  all  with  gleeful  faces 

Turned  their  back  upon  the  Lord. 
You  had  thought  the  church  a  prison 

Had  you  seen  how  they  did  pour, 
With  giddy,  giddy  faces, 

From  the  consecrated  door. 
There  was  angels'  food  all  ready, 

But  the  bidden,  where  are  they  ? 
O'er  the  highways  and  the  hedges 

Ere  the  soul-dirge  ceased  to  play. 
Oh !  the  soul-dirge,  how  it  echoed 

The  emptied  aisles  along ! 


350  MANUAL   OF  READING. 

As  the  open  street  grew  crowded 
With  the  full  outpouring  throng. 

And  then — again  the  voices — 

"Ha!  the  soul-dirge!  hear  it  play!" 

And  the  pensive,  pensive  whisper, 
"Will ye  also  go  away?" 

Few,  few  were  they  that  lingered     . 

To  sup  with  Jesus  there, 
And  yet  for  all  that  spurned  Him 

There  was  plenty  and  to  spare. 
And  now  the  food  of  angels 

Uncovered  to  my  sight, 
All  glorious  was  the  altar, 

And  the  chalice  glittered  bright. 

Then  came  the  hymn  Trisagion, 

And  rapt  me  up  on  high, 
With  angels  and  archangels 

To  laud  and  magnify. 
I  seemed  to  feast  in  heaven, 

And  downward  wafted  then, 
With  angels  chanting  round  me, 

Good  will  and  peace  to  men. 

I  may  not  tell  the  rapture 

Of  a  banquet  so  divine. 
Ho !  every  one  that  thirsteth, 

Let  him  taste  the  bread  and  wine. 
Hear  the  Bride  and  Spirit  saying, 

11  Will  ye  also  go  away  f 
Or,  "  Go,  poor  soul,  forever !" 

Ah !  the  soul-dirge — hear  it  play ! 


THE  TRIAD. 

Alfred  B.  Street. 
Through  the  air  low  sounds  are  stealing, 
Softly,  sadly,  deep  with  feeling ; 
Across  the  ear  they  slowly  draw  along, 
Wailing  like  winds  in  their  wild  autumn  song ; 
It  is  Music  in  its  sorrow,  and  causing  by  a  chain 
Of  sympathy  each  bosom  to  yield  an  answering  strain, 

But  now  the  changing  sounds  leap  out ! 
Merrily,  merrily,  swift  they  dance  about, 
As  the  glad  bluebird  on  a  day  in  spring, 
When  south  winds  are  blowing, 
And  bright  streams  are  flowing, 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  351 

And  blossoms  are  rising  and  smiling  around, 
And  incense  floats  up  from  the  altar-like  ground. 

Hither  and  yon, 

In  shadow  and  sun, 
Wanders  and  skims  with  delight  in  its  wing ; 
Or  like  the  voice  of  a  frolicsome  boy 
Chasing  the  butterfly  over  the  flowers, 
When  sunshincis  painting  the  summer  hours, 
His  heart  in  his  lips,  and  his  lips  shouting  free 
In  the  strain  that  is  born  and  is  moulded  of  glee : 

"lis  music  in  its  joy. 

Hark!  once  again 
Peals  up — peals  up  the  strain ! 

Swift,  swift  on  high, 
On  lightning  wings  it  seems  to  fly, 
Lark-like  in  floods  of  harmony, 

Until  methinks  we  see 
Banners,  and  swords,  and  plumes,  and  hear  the  sound 
Of  the  keen  trumpets,  while  our  bosoms  bound : 

'Tis  music  breathing  loud, 
Triumph,  victorious  triumph,  glad  and  proud. 

Now  swells  the  strain  in  one  grand  solemn  roll, 
In  march  majestic  sounding  through  the  soul. 

It  seems  to  bid  the  knee  to  sink,  the  eye 

In  deepest  awe,  yet  trust,  to  seek  the  sky. 
It  seems  to  breathe  of  God,  and  deeply  say, 
Man,  creature  of  his  love,  bow  down  and  pray ! 

Full  is  the  sound  of  most  divine  emotion — 
'Tis  music  in  devotion. 

Then  with  mild  fire 
His  trembling  lyre 

Strikes  Poesy,  and  Nature  gleams 

With  all  her  sunshine,  flowers,  and  streams ; 

Bright  Fancy's  haunted  realm  is  spread, 

And  aiiy,  flitting  beings  tread 

From  its  rich  beauty,  brightening  to  the  mind ; 

The  lover  wanders  in  the  moonlight  sweet ; 

The  warrior  mounts  his  battle-steed,  to  bind 

His  bow  with  wreaths,  and  youths  and  maidens  greet 
Spring's  laughing  hours  with  dancing  feet ; 
Thus  all  the  shapes  the  heart 
Can  dream,  arise  and  act  in  Poesy's  high  art. 

Last  Eloquence, 
With  feeling  burning  and  intense, 
Loosens  its  tongue ;  in  honeyed  accents  now 


352  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

It  bends  each  will,  it  makes  each  bosom  bow, 

Witching  the  sense  away  ; 
Then,  like  a  warrior  rising  from  the  fray, 
Crying  "  To  arms !  to  arms !"  it  swells  and  soars 
In  flight  triumphant — like  a  stream  that  pours 
Down  in  a  torrent — all  our  wills  are  borne 
On  in  one  course,  urged  by  this  magic  power 
That  lifts  its  radiant  head,  the  crowned  king  of  the  hour. 

Thus  the  three 
Weave  the  strong  spells  of  their  harmony 
Over  the  burning  hearts  made  subject  to  their  sway. 
Coals  are  they  from  the  loftiest  shrine 
Of  intellect ;  their  birthplace  is  divine. 
Sparks  are  they,  brightly  born  of  heaven's  own  ray. 
Their  errand  should  be  lofty :  to  refine 
The  soul,  to  purify  the  heart,  to  bend 
Our  every  feeling  to  a  holy  end ; 
From  stains  of  earth  to  make  our  spirits  free, 
And  thus  to  consecrate  our  tyves,  oh  Heaven,  to  thee ! 


THE  BOBOLINK.—  From  Our  Young  Folks. 

G.  H,  Barnes. 
Merry  meadow  bobolink ! 
White  as  snow  and  black  as  ink — 
White  the  ruffle  round  your  throat, 
Black  your  glossy  velvet  coat ; 
White  your  crest,  and  black  your  bill, 
And  your  bosom  blacker  still ; 
Little  piebald,  babbling  elf, 
Caring  only  for  yourself, 
Ever  joyous,  ever  singing, 
Ever  through  the  lilies  winging, 
Flitting  here  and  flashing  there, 
Never  quiet  any  where — 
Do  you  ever  stop  to  think, 
Merry  meadow  bobolink  ? 
What  a  funny  song  you  sing 
While  you  flutter  on  the  wing ! 
,    Rest,  then,  birdie,  on  that  stake ; 
Keep  your  black  eyes  wide  awake ; 
Don't  you  laugh,  and  don't  you  wink, 
While  I  tell  you,  bobolink, 
In  a  half  a  dozen  rounds, 
How  your  rattling  nonsense  sounds, 
When  your  crooked  carol  crazes 
School-boys,  birds,  and  bees,  and  daisies. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  353 

" t  Bobolink,  link-a-tink  V    Ho,  pretty  lass ! 

Up  in  the  sunny  sky,  down  in  the  grass. 

Good  morning,  Miss  Jenny  Wren ;  sweetly  you  look, 

With  feathers  so  bright  from  a  wash  in  the  brook. 

'  Tweet-a-lee,  tweet-a-lee,  link-a-ti-ting  V 

Come,  Jenny,  with  me,  on  the  daisies,  and  swing ; 

And  out  of  their  cups,  my  darling,  we'll  drink 

Dew-drops  and  honey-drops,  '  tweet  bobolink  /' " 

*'  Twittering  lady-bird,  dressed  in  blue, 
Swallow  of  summer,  good  morning  to  you ; 
*  Pe-le-weet,  pe-le-weet  /'  your  flight  is  so  fleet, 
Your  shadow  goes  dancing  over  the  wheat, 
And  over  the  mower,  who  leans  on  his  scythe 
To  list  to  my  song,  so  merry  and  blithe  ; 
'  Tink-a-lum,  tink-a-lum  J y  sprite  of  the  air, 
Bobolink  wishes  your  love  to  share." 

1 ' Hallo !  Kitty  Catbird,  what  is  the  matter? 
''Click,  plash,  twang,  clatter-ti-clatter  V 
Come  here  on  the  lilies,  and  swing  and  swing, 
Bobolink  ballads  together  we'll  sing." 

i;  'Tweet,  tweet  V    Goldfinch,  out  in  the  grove, 
Filling  the  shade  with  a  chirrup  of  love, 
Trilling  your  song  in  one  little  note, 
Just  hear  a  tune  from  a  bobolink's  throat." 

"  'Tu-ra-lee,  tu-ra-leeV  cherries  and  clover; 

Johnny's  come  home  from  the  war  that  is  over ! 

Bessie  is  down  in  the  grass  on  her  nest, 

Brooding  young  bobolinks  under  her  breast ; 

Lilies  bend  over  the  water,  I  think, 

To  look  at  their  beauty — never  to  drink ; 

So  here  on  the  fence  /sit  and  sing, 

Proud  as  a  popinjay,  *  link-a-ti-ling  V 

'Ho,  ho,  cleet !  cleet  /'      Some  other  fine  day, 

My  gay  little  finch,  I'll  finish  my  lay. 

Good-by  for  the  present.     I'd  pipe  a  refrain, 

But  here  comes  a  school-boy  down  through  the  lane. 

I  know  by  his  step,  I  know  by  his  wink, 

He's  a  stone  in  his  hand  for  poor  Bobolink. 

Good-by,  little  birds ;  *  tril-i-link  /'  good-by  ; 

I've  opened  my  wings,  and  away  I  must  fly." 

So  the  black-eyed  bobolink, 
With  a  mighty  knowing  wink, 
Gives  his  snowy  cap  a  shake, 
Flutters  from  the  leaning  stake, 


354  MANUAL   OF  READING. 

And  across  the  clover-bed, 
Turning  now  and  then  his  head, 
Clears  the  meadow  in  his  track 
Ere  he  folds  his  wings  of  black : 
And  we  hear  him,  as  he  passes 
Gayly  o'er  the  nodding  grasses, 
Singing  ' '  Ting-a-ling-a-link  I 
I'm  a  merry  bobolink." 


THE  RIDE  FROM  GHENT  TO  AIX. 

Robert  Browning. 
I  sprang  to  the  stirrup,  and  Joris,  and  he  ; 
I  galloped,  Dirk  galloped,  we  galloped  all  three : 
"  Good  speed !"  cried  the  watch  as  the  gate-bolts  undrew, 
"Speed!"  echoed  the  wall  to  us  galloping. through. 
Behind  shut  the  postern,  the  lights  sank  to  rest, 
And  into  the  midnight  we  galloped  abreast. 

Not  a  word  to  each  other ;  we«kept  the  great  pace — 
Neck  by  neck,  stride  by  stride,  never  changing  our  place ; 
I  turned  to  my  saddle  and  made  its  girths  tight, 
Then  shortened  each  stirrup  and  set  the  pique  right, 
Rebuckled  the  check-strap,  chained  slacker  the  bit, 
Nor  galloped  less  steadily  Roland  a  whit. 

'Tw'as  a  moonset  at  starting ;  but  while  we  drew  near 

Lo'keren,  the  cocks  crew  and  twilight  dawned  clear ; 

At  Boom  a  great  yellow  star  came  out  to  see ; 

At  Diiffeld  'twas  morning  as  plain  as  could  be ; 

And  from  MSch'eln  (meYlin)  church-steeple  we  heard  the  half-chime, 

So  Joris  broke  silence  with  "Yet  there  is  time!" 

At  Aerschot  up  leaped  of  a  sudden  the  sun, 
And  against  him  the  cattle  stood  black  every  one, 
To  stare  through  the  mist  at  us  galloping  past ; 
And  I  saw  my  stout  galloper  Ro'land  at  last, 
With  resolute  shoulders,  each  butting  away 
The  haze  as  some  bluff  river  headland  its  spray ; 

And  his  low  head  and  crest,  just  one  sharp  ear  bent  back 
For  my  voice,  and  the  other  pricked  out  on  his  track ; 
And  one  eye's  black  intelligence — ever  that  glance 
O'er  its  white  edge  at  me,  his  own  master,  askance ; 
And  the  thick,  heavy  spume-flakes,  which  aye  and  anon 
His  fierce  lips  shook  upward  in  galloping  on. 

By  Has'selt  Dirck  groaned ;  and  cried  Joris,  "Stay  spur! 
Your  Boos  galloped  bravely,  the  fault's  not  in  her  j 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  355 

We'll  remember  at  Aix"  (aks) — for  one  heard  the  quick  wheeze 
Of  her  chest,  saw  the  stretched  neck,  and  staggering  knees, 
And  sunk  tail,  and  horrible  heave  of  the  flank, 
As  down  on  her  haunches  she  shuddered  and  sank. 

So  we  were  left  galloping,  Joris  and  I, 

Past  Looz  and  past  Tongres,  no  cloud  in  the  sky ; 

The  broad  sun  above  laughed  a  pitiless  laugh ; 

'Neath  our  feet  broke  the  brittle,  bright  stubble  like  chaff; 

Till  over  by  Dal'Iiem  a  dome-spire  sprang  white, 

And  "  Gallop,"  gasped  Joris,  "  for  Aix  is  in  sight !" 

"How  they'll  greet  us !" — and  all  in  a  moment  his  roan 
Rolled  neck  and  croup  over,  lay  dead  as  a  stone ; 
And  there  was  my  Ro'land  to  bear  the  whole  weight 
Of  the  news  which  alone  could  save  Aix  from  her  fate, 
With  his  nostrils  like  pits  full  of  blood  to  the  brim, 
And  with  circles  of  red  for  his  eye-sockets'  rim. 

Then  I  cast  loose  my  buff-coat,  each  holster  let  fall, 

Shook  off  both  my  jack-boots,  let  go  belt  and  all, 

Stood  up  in  the  stirrup,  leaned,  patted  his  ear, 

Called  my  Roland  his  pet-name,  my  horse  without  peer — 

Clapped  my  hands,  laughed  and  sung,  any  noise,  bad  or  good, 

Till  at  length  into  Aix  Roland  galloped  and  stood. 

And  all  I  remember  is  friends  flocking  round, 

As  I  sat  with  his  head  'twixt  my  knees  on  the  ground ; 

And  no  voice  but  was  praising  this  Roland  of  mine, 

As  I  poured  down  his  throat  our  last  measure  of  wine, 

Which  (the  burgesses  voted  by  common  consent) 

Was  no  more  than  his  due,  who  brought  good  news  from  Ghent  (gent). 


THE  PASSIONS. 

William  Collins. 
When  Music,  heavenly  maid,  was  young, 
While  yet  in  early  Greece  she  sung, 
The  Passions  oft,  to  hear  her  shell, 
Thronged  around  her  magic  cell — 
Exulting,  trembling,  raging,  fainting — 
Possessed  beyond  the  Muse's  painting ; 
By  turns  they  felt  the  glowing  mind 
Disturbed,  delighted,  raised,  refined ; 
Till  once,  'tis  said,  when  all  were  fired, 
Filled  with  fury,  rapt,  inspired, 
From  the  supporting  myrtles  round 
They  snatched  her  instruments  of  sound ; 


356  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

And,  as  they  oft  had  heard  apart 
Sweet  lessons  of  her  forceful  art, 
Each  (for  Madness  ruled  the  hour) 
Would  prove  his  own  expressive  power. 

First  Fear  his  hand,  its  skill  to  try, 

Amid  the  chords  bewildered  laid, 
And  back  recoiled,  he  knew  not  why, 

E'en  at  the  sound  himself  had  made. 

Next  Anger  rushed  ;  his  eyes,  on  fire, 

In  lightnings  owned  his  secret  stings  : 
In  one  rude  clash  he  struck  the  lyre, 

And  swept  with  hurried  hand  the  strings. 

With  woful  measures  wan  Despair, 

Low,  sullen  sounds  his  grief  beguiled — 
A  solemn,  strange,  and  mingled  air ; 

'Twas  sad  by  fits,  by  starts  'twas  wild. 

But  thou,  O  Hope,  with  eyes  so  fair — 
What  was  thy  delightful  measure  ? 
Still  it  whispered  promised  pleasure, 
And  bade  the  lovely  scenes  at  distance  hail! 

Still  would  her  touch  the  strain  prolong ; 
And  from  the  rocks,  the  woods,  the  vale, 

She  called  on  Echo  still,  through  all  the  song ; 
And,  where  her  sweetest  theme  she  chose, 
A  soft  responsive  voice  wras  heard  at  every  close ; 

And  Hope,  enchanted,  smiled,  and  waved  her  golden  hair. 

And  longer  had  she  sung — but,  with  a  frown, 

Revenge  impatient  rose ; 
He  threw  his  blood-stained  sword  in  thunder  down, 

And,  with  a  withering  look, 

The  war-denouncing  trumpet  took, 
And  blew  a  blast  so  loud  and  dread, 
Were  ne'er  prophetic  sounds  so  full  of  woe ! 

And,  ever  and  anon,  he  beat 

The  doubling  drum,  with  furious  heat ; 
And  though  sometimes,  each  dreary  pause  between, 

Dejected  Pity,  at  his  side, 

Her  soul-subduing  voice  applied, 
Yet  still  he  kept  his  wild,  unaltered  mein, 
While  each  strained  ball  of  sight  seemed  bursting  from  his  head. 
Thy  numbers,  Jealousy,  to  naught  were  fixed — 

Sad  proof  of  thy  distressful  state ; 
Of  differing  themes  the  veering  song  was  mixed  ; 

And  now  it  courted  Love — now,  raving,  called  on  Hate. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  357 

With  eyes  upraised,  as  one  inspired, 

Pale  Melancholy  sat  retired ; 

And,  from  her  wild,  sequestered  seat, 

In  notes  by  distance  made  more  sweet, 

Poured  through  the  mellow  horn  her  pensive  soul ; 

And,  dashing  soft  from  rocks  around, 

Bubbling  runnels  joined  the  sound ; 
Through  glades  and  glooms  the  mingled  measure  stole ; 

Or,  o'er  some  haunted  stream,  with  fond  delay, 
Kound  a  holy  calm  diffusing, 
Love  of  Peace,  and  lonely  musing, 

In  hollow  murmurs  died  away. 

But  oh !  how  altered  was  its  sprightlier  tone 
When  Cheerfulness,  a  nymph  of  healthiest  hue, 

Her  bow  across  her  shoulder  flung, 

Her  buskins  gemmed  with  morning  dew, 
Blew  an  inspiring  air,  that  dale  and  thicket  rung — 

The  hunter's  call,  to  Faun  and  Dryad  known ! 
The  oak-crowned  Sisters,  and  their  chaste-eyed  que«n, 

Satyrs  and  sylvan  boys,  were  seen 

Peeping  from  forth  their  alleys  green ;  ^ 

Brown  Exercise  rejoiced  to  hear ; 

And  Sport  leaped  up,  and  seized  his  beechen  spear. 
Last  came  Joy's  ecstatic  trial : 
He,  with  viny  crown  advancing, 

First  to  the  lively  pipe  his  hand  addressed  ; 
But  soon  he  saw  the  brisk  awakening  viol, 

Whose  sweet,  entrancing  voice  he  loved  the  best ; 
They  would  have  thought,  who  heard  the  strain, 

They  saw,  in  Tempe's  vale,  her  native  maids, 

Amidst  the  festal-sounding  shades, 
To  some  unwearied  minstrel  dancing, 
While,  as  his  flying  fingers  kissed  the  strings, 
Love  framed  with  Mirth  a  gay  fantastic  round : 
Loose  were  her  tresses  seen,  her  zone  unbound ; 

And  he,  amidst  his  frolic  play, 

As  if  he  would  the  charming  air  repay, 
Shook  thousand  odors  from  his  dewy  wings. 

O  Music !  sphere-descending  maid, 
Friend  of  Pleasure,  Wisdom's  aid ! 
Why,  goddess !  why,  to  us  denied, 
Lay'st  thou  thy  ancient  lyre  aside  ? 
As,  in  that  loved  Athenian  bower, 
You  learned  an  all-commanding  power, 
Thy  mimic  soul,  O  nymph  endeared, 


358  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Can  well  recall  what  then  it  heard ; 
Where  is  thy  native  simple  heart, 
Devote  to  Virtue,  Fancy,  Art  ? 
Arise,  as  in  that  elder  tim.?, 
Warm,  energetic,  chaste,  sublime ; 
Thy  wonders,  in  that  godlike  age, 
Fill  thy  recording  sister's  page  •, 
'Tis  said — and  I  believe  the  tale — 
Thy  humblest  reed  could  more  prevail, 
Had  more  of  strength,  diviner  rage, 
Than  all  which  charms  this  laggard  age — 
E'en  all  at  once  together  found — 
Cecilia's  mingled  world  of  sound. 
Oh,  bid  our  vain  endeavors  cease, 
Revive  the  just  designs  of  Greece; 
Return  in  all  thy  simple  state — 
Confirm  the  tales  her  sons  relate. 


THE  CHILD  AND  THE  SUNSHINE.—  In  Memorial 

Through  the  doorway  flowed  the  sunshine 

In  a  flood  of  molten  gold ; 
Like  a  cataract  of  glory, 

Down  the  rifted  clouds  it  rolled. 

While  a  child  upon  the  carpet 

Laughing  ran  to  where  it  lay, 
With  its  little  hands  outreaching, 

Like  a  dream  it  fled  away. 

For  a  cloud  had  wandered  o'er  us, 

And  the  blue  of  heaven  had  gone, 
And  the  dark  wings  of  the  tempest 

Beat  the  sullen  air  alone. 

Still  the  child,  his  hands  extended, 

Gazed  upon  the  vacant  floor, 
Waiting,  watching  for  the  sunshine 

Which  would  come  that  day  no  more. 

Happy  childhood !  watching,  waiting, 

In  your  sweet  and  rosy  glow, 
You  will  follow  hopes  as  fleeting 

In  the  path  your  feet  must  go. 

And  your  longing  heart  will  linger 

Where  the  joy-rays  dimly  burn, 
For  the  warm  and  pleasant  sunshine 

That  will  never  more  returnr 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  359 

TOLERATION.— An  Apologue. 

Jeremy  Taylor.* 

When  Abraham  sat  at  his  tent  door,  according  to  his 
custom,  waiting  to  entertain  strangers,  he  espied  an  old  man 
stooping  and  leaning  on  his  staff,  weary  with  age  and  trav- 
el, coming  towards  him,  who  was  a  hundred  years  of  age. 

He  received  him  kindly,  washed  his  feet,  provided  sup- 
per, and  caused  him  to  sit  down ;  but,  observing  that  the 
old  man  ate  and  prayed  not,  nor  begged  for  a  blessing  on 
his  meat,  asked  him  why  he  did  not  worship  the  God  of 
Heaven.  The  old  man  told  him  that  he  worshiped  the  fire 
only,  and  acknowledged  no  other  God;  at  which  answer 
Abraham  grew  so  zealously  angry  that  he  thrust  the  old 
man  out  of  his  tent,  and  exposed  him  to  all  the  evils  of  the 
night  and  an  unguarded  condition. 

When  the  old  man  was  gone,  God  called  to  Abraham, 
and  asked  him  where  the  stranger  was.  He  replied,  "  I 
thrust  him  away  because  he  did  not  worship  Thee :"  God 
answered  him, "  I  have  suffered  him  these  hundred  years,  al- 
though he  dishonored  me,  and  couldst  thou  not  endure  him 
one  night,  when  he  gave  thee  no  trouble  ?"  Upon  this,  saith 
the  story,  Abraham  fetched  him  back  again,  and  gave  him 
hospitable  entertainment  and  wise  instruction.  Go  thou 
and  do  likewise,  and  thy  charity  will  be  rewarded  by  the 
God  of  Abraham. 

FROM  THE  DODGE  CLUB,  OR  ITALY  IN  MDCCCLIX. 

James  de  Mille. 
La  Cica  did  not  speak  the  best  English  in  the  world,  yet 
that  could  not  account  for  all  the  singular  remarks  which 
she  made,  still  less  could  it  account  for  the  tender  interest 
of  her  manner.  She  had  remarkably  bright  eyes.  Why 
wandered  those  eyes  so  often  to  his,  and  why  did  they  beam 
with  such  devotion — beaming  for  a  moment  only  to  fall  in 
sweet  innocent  confusion  ?    La  Cica  had  the  most  fascina- 

*  Jeremy  Taylor,  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  English  divines,  and  often 
styled  the  Shakspeare  of  theological  literature,  was  born  in  Cambridge,  En- 
gland, in  or  about  the  year  1602.     He  died  in  1667. 


360  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

ting  manners,  yet  they  were  often  perplexing  to  the  sena- 
tor's soul. 

"  The  countess,"  he  thought, "  is  a  most  remarkably  fine 
woman ;  but  she  does  use  her  eyes  uncommon,  and  I  do 
wish  she  wouldn't  be  quite  so  demonstrative." 

At  last  the  senator  came  to  this  conclusion :  La  Cica  was 
desperately  in  love  with  him. 

She  appeared  to  be  a  widow.  Now  if  the  poor  Cica  was 
hopelessly  in  love,  it  must  be  stopped  at  once.  For  he  was 
a  married  man,  and  his  good  lady  still  lived,  with  a  very 
large  family,  most  of  the  members  of  which  had  grown  up. 

La  Cica  ought  to  know  this.  She  ought  indeed.  But 
let  the  knowledge  be  given  delicately,  not  abruptly. 

On  the  following  evening  they  walked  on  the  balcony  of 
La  Cica?s  noble  residence.  She  was  sentimental,  devoted, 
charming.  » 

The  conversation  of  a  fascinating  woman  does  not  look 
so  well  when  reported  as  it  is  when  uttered.  Her  power  is 
in  her  tone,  her  glance,  her  manner.  Who  can  catch  the 
evanescent  beauty  of  her  expression  or  the  deep  tenderness 
of  her  well-modulated  voice  ?    Who  indeed  ? 

"  Does  ze  scene  please  you,  my  senator  ?" 

"  Very  much  indeed." 

"  Youar  countrymen  haf  tol  me  zey  would  like  to  stay 
here  alio  way." 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  place." 

"  Did  you  aiver  see  any  thin  moaire  loafely  ?"  And  the 
countess  looked  full  in  his  face. 

"  Never,"  said  the  senator,  earnestly.  The  next  instant 
he  blushed.     He  had  been  betrayed  into  a  compliment. 

The  countess  sighed. 

"  Helas  !  my  senator,  that  it  is  not  pairmitted  to  moartals 
to  sociate  as  zey  would  laike." 

u  '  Your  senator,' "  thought  the  gentleman  thus  addressed ; 
"  how  fond,  how  tender — poor  thing !  poor  thing  !" 

"  I  wish  that  Italy  was  nearer  to  the  States,"  said  he. 

"  How  I  adamiar  youar  style  of  mind,  so  differente  from 
ze  Italiana.  You  are  so  stong  —  so  nobile.  Yet  would  I 
laike  to  see  moar  of  ze  poetic  in  you." 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  361 

*l  always  loved  poetry,  marm,"  said  the  senator,  desper- 
ately. 

"  Ah  ! — good — nais — eccelente.  I  am  plees  at  zat,"  cried 
the  countess,  with  much  animation.  u  You  would  loafe  it 
moar  eef  you  knew  Italiano.  Your  langua  ees  not  sufficiente 
musicale  for  poatry." 

"  It  is  not  so  soft  a  language  as  the  ./"-talian." 

"  Ah !  no — not  so  soft.  Very  well.  And  what  theenka 
you  of  ze  Italiano  ?" 

**  The  sweetest  language  I  ever  heard  in  all  my  born  days." 

"  Ah  !  now — you  hev  not  heard  much  of  ze  Italiano,  my 
senator." 

"  I  have  heard  you  speak  often,"  said  the  senator,  naively. 

"  Ah  !  you  compliment !     I  sot  you  was  aboove  flattera." 

And  the  countess  playfully  tapped  his  arm  with  her  little 
fan. 

"  What  Ingelis  poet  do  you  loafe  best  ?" 

"  Poet  ?  English  poet  ?"  said  the  senator,  with  some  sur- 
prise. "  Oh — why,  marm,  I  think  Watts  is  about  the  best 
of  the  lot." 

"  Watt  ?  Was  he  a  poet  ?  I  did  not  know  zat.  He  who 
invented  ze  stim-injaine  ?  And  yet,  if  he  was  a  poet,  it  is 
naturale  zat  you  loafe  him  best." 

"  Steam-engine?    Oh  no  !     This  one  was  a  minister." 

*{  A  meeneestaire  ?  Ah !  an  abbe  ?  I  know  him  not. 
Yet  I  haf  read  mos  of  all  youar  poets." 

"  He  made  up  hymns,  marm,  and  psalms — for  instance : 
1  Watts's  Divine  Hymns  and  Spiritual  Songs.'  " 

"  Songs  ?  Spirituelle  ?  Ah !  I  mus  at  once  procuaire  ze 
works  of  Watt,  which  was  favorit  poet  of  my  senator." 

"  A  lady  of  such  intelligence  as  you  would  like  the  poet 
Watts,"  said  the  senator,  firmly.  "  He  is  the  best  known 
by  far  of  all  our  poets." 

"  What !  better  zan  Shakspeare,  Milton,  Bairon  ?  You 
much  surprass  me." 

"  Better  known  and  better  loved  than  the  whole  lot. 
Why,  his  poetry  is  known  by  heart  through  all  England 
and  America." 

" Merciful  heaven  !  what  vou  tell  me!  ees  ect  possibl! 

Q 


362  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

An  yet  he  is  not  known  here  efen  by  name.  It  would  please 
me  mooch,  my  senator,  to  haire  you  make  one  quotation e. 
Know  you  Watt  ?  Tell  me  some  words  of  his  which  I  may 
remembaire." 

"I have  a  shocking  bad  memory." 

"  Bad  memora !  Oh,  but  you  remember  somethin,  zis 
most  beautiful  charm  nait— you  haf  a  nobile  soul — you  must 
be  affeeta  by  beauty— by  ze  ideal.  Make  for  me  one  quo- 
tatione." 

And  she  rested  her  little  hand  on  the  senator's  arm,  and 
looked  up  imploringly  in  his  face. 

The  senator  looked  foolish.  He  felt  even  more  so.  Here 
was  a  beautiful  woman,  by  act  and  look  showing  a  tender 
interest  in  him.  Perplexing — but  very  flattering  after  all. 
So  he  replied :  - 

"  You  will  not  let  me  refuse  you  any  thing." 

"  Aha !  you  are  vera  willin  to  refuse.  It  is  difficulty  for 
me  to  excitare  youar  regards.  You  are  fill  with  the  grands 
ideas.  But  come — will  you  spik  for  me  som  from  your  fa- 
vorit  Watt  ?" 

"  Well,  if  you  wish  it  so  much,"  said  the  senator,  kindly, 
and  he  hesitated. 

"  Ah  !  I  do  wish  it  so  much !" 

"Ehem!" 

"Begin,"  said  the  countess.  "Behold  me.  I  listen.  I 
hear  everysin,  and  will  remember  it  forava." 

The  only  thing  that  the  senator  could  'think  of  was  the 
verse  which  had  been  running  in  his  head  for  the  last  few 
days,  its  measured  rhythm  keeping  time  with  every  occupa- 
tion: 

"  '  My  willing  soul  would  stay — ?  " 

"  Stop  one  moment,"  said  the  countess.  "  I  weesh  to  learn 
it  from  you ;"  and  she  looked  fondly  and  tenderly  up,  but 
instantly  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  '  Ma  willina  sol  wooda  sta — '  " 

"  '  In  such  a  frame  as  this,'  "  prompted  the  senator. 

u  c  Een  socha  framas  zees.'  Wait — f  Ma  willina  sol  wooda 
sta  in  socha  framas  zees.'  Ah!  appropriat;  but  could  I 
hope  zat  you  were  true  to  zose  lines,  my  senator  ?    Well  ?" 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  363 

*  '  And  sit  and  sing  herself  away,'  "  said  the  senator,  in  a 
faltering  voice,  and  breaking  out  into  a  cold  perspiration  for 
fear  of  committing  himself  by  such  uncommonly  strong  lan- 
guage. 

u  '  Ansit  ansin  hassaf  awai,'  "  repeated  the  countess,  her 
face  lighting  up  with  a  sweetly  conscious  expression. 

The  senator  paused. 

"  I — ehem !     I  forget." 

"  Forget  ?    Impossible  !" 

"I  do  really." 

"  Ah  now  !  Forget  ?  I  see  by  your  face — you  desave. 
Say  on." 

The  countess  again  gently  touched  his  arm  with- both  her 
little  hands,  and  held  it  as  though  she  would  clasp  it. 

"  Have  you  fear  ?    Ah !  cruel." 

The  senator  turned  pale,  but  finding  refusal  impossible, 
boldly  finished : 

"  '  To  everlasting  bliss' — there  !" 

"  'To  affarlastin  blees  thar.'  Stop.  I  repeat  it  all:  'Ma 
willina  sol  wooda  sta  een  socha  framas  zees,  ansit  ansin  has- 
saf awai  to  affarlastin  blees  thar.'     Am  I  right?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  senator,  meekly. 

"  I  knew  you  were  a  poetic  sola,"  said  the  countess,  con- 
fidingly. "You  air  honesto — true — you  can  not  desave. 
When  you  spik  I  can  beliv  you.  Ah  !  my  senator ;  an  you 
can  spik  zis  poetry ! — at  soch  a  toime  !  I  nefare  knew  be- 
foare  zat  you  so  impassione  ! — an  you  air  so  artaful !  You 
breeng  ze  confersazione  to  beauty — to  poatry — to  ze  poet 
Watt — so  you  may  spik  verses  mos  impassione !  Ah  !  what 
do  you  mean  ?  Santissima  mad  re !  how  I  wish  you  spik 
Italiano." 

The  countess  drew  nearer  to  him,  but  her  approach  only 
deepened  his  perplexity. 

"  How  that  poor  thing  does  love  me  !"  sighed  the  senator. 
"  Law  bless  it !  she  can't  help  it — can't  help  it  nohow.  She 
is  a  goner ;  and  what  can  I  do  ?    I'll  have  to  leave  Florence." 

The  countess  was  standing  close  beside  him  in  a  tender 
mood  waiting  for  him  to  break  the  silence.  How  could  he  ? 
He  had  been  uttering  words  which  sounded  to  her  like 


364  MANUAL    OF   BEADING. 

love ;  and  she — "  a  widow  !  a  widow  !  wretched  man  that  I 
am!" 

There  was  a  pause.  The  longer  it  lasted  the  more  awk- 
ward the  senator  felt.  What  upon  earth  was  he  to  do  or 
say?  What  business  had  he  to  go  and  quote*  poetry  to 
widows  ?  What  an  old  fool  he  must  be  !  But  the  countess 
was  very  far  from  feeling  awkward.  Assuming  an  elegant 
attitude,  she  looked  up,  her  face  expressing  the  tenderest 
solicitude. 

"What  ails  my  senator?" 

"Why,  the  fact  is,  marm — I  feel  sad — at  leaving  Florence. 
I  must  go  shortly.  My  wife  has  written  summoning  me 
home.     The  children  are  down  with  the  measles." 

Oh,  base  fabrication !  Oh>  false  senator !  There  wasn't 
a  word  of  truth  in  that  last,  remark.  You  spoke  so  because 
you  wished  La  Cica  to  know  that  you  had  a  wife  and  fam- 
ily.    Yet  it  was  very  badly  done. 

La  Cica  changed  neither  her  attitude  nor  her  expression. 
Evidently  the  existence  of  his  wrife,  and  the  melancholy  sit- 
uation of  his  unfortunate  children,  awakened  no  sympathy. 

"  But  my  senator — did  you  not  say  you  wooda  seeng  you- 
sellef  away  to  affarlastin  blees  ?" 

"  Oh,  marm,  it  was  a  quotation — only  a  quotation." 

But  at  this  critical  juncture  the  conversation  was  broken 
up  by  the  arrival  of  a  number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

But  could  the  senator  have  known  ! 

Could  he  have  known  how  and  Avhere  those  words  would 
confront  him  again ! 


SAM  WELLER'S  VALENTINE. 

Charles  Dickens. 
Mr.  Weller  having  obtained  leave  of  absence  from  Mr. 
Pickwick,  who,  in  his  then  state  of  excitement  and  worry, 
was  by  no  means  displeased  at  being  left  alone,  set  forth 
long  before  the  appointed  hour ;  and,  having  plenty  of  time 
at  his  disposal,  sauntered  down  as  far  as  the  Mansion  House, 
where  he  paused  and  contemplated,  with  a  face  of  great 
calmness  and  philosophy,  the  numerous  cads  and  drivers  of 
short  stages  who  assemble  near  that  famous  place  of  resort, 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  3G5 

to  the  great  terror  and  confusion  of  the  old-lady  population 
of  these  realms.  Having  loitered  here  for  half  an  hour  or 
so,  Mr.  Weller  turned,  and  began  wending  his  way  towards 
Leadenhall  Market,  through  a  variety  of  by-streets  and 
courts. 

As  he  was  sauntering  away  his  spare  time,  and  stopped  to 
look  at  almost  every  object  that  met  his  gaze,  it  is  by  no 
means  surprising  that  Mr.  Weller  should  have  paused  before 
a  small  stationer's  and  print-seller's  window ;  but,  without 
further  explanation,  it  does  appear  surprising  that  his  eyes 
should  have  no  sooner  rested  on  certain  pictures  which  were 
exposed  for  sale  therein,  than  he  gave  a  sudden  start,  smote 
his  right  leg  with  great  vehemence,  and  exclaimed  with  en- 
ergy, "If  it  hadn't  been  for  this,  I  should  ha'  forgot  all 
about  it  till  it  was  too  late !" 

The  particular  picture  on  which  Sam  Weller's  eyes  were 
fixed,  as  he  said  this,  was  a  highly-colored  representation  of 
a  pair  of  human  hearts  skewered  together  with  an  arrow, 
cooking  before  a  cheerful  fire,  while  a  male  and  a  female 
cannibal  in  modern  attire — the  gentleman  being  clad  in  a 
blue  coat  and  white  trowsers,  and  the  lady  in  a  deep  red  pe- 
lisse with  a  parasol  of  the  same — were  approaching  the  meal 
with  hungry  eyes,  up  a  serpentine  gravel  path  leading  there- 
unto. 

A  decidedly  indelicate  young  gentleman,  in  a  pair  of  wings 
and  nothing  else,  was  depicted  as  superintending  the  cook- 
ing; a  representation  of  the  spire  of  the  church  in  Langhorn 
Place  appeared  in  the  distance ;  and  the  whole  formed  a 
"  valentine,"  of  which,  as  a  written  inscription  in  the  window 
testified,  there  was  a  large  assortment  within,  which  the 
shopkeeper  pledged  himself  to  dispose  of  to  his  countrymen 
generally  at  the  reduced  rate  of  one  and  sixpence  each. 

"I  should  ha'  forgot  it — I  should  certainly  have  forgot 
it !"  said  Sam ;  and,  so  saying,  he  at  once  stepped  into  the 
stationer's  shop,  and  requested  to  be  served  with  a  sheet  of 
the  best  gilt-edged  letter-paper,  and  a  hard-nibbed  pen  which 
could  be  warranted  not  to  splutter.  These  articles  having 
been  promptly  supplied,  he  walked  on  direct  towards  Lead- 
enhall Market  at  a  good  round  pace,  very  different  from  his 


■■.*■ 

366  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

recent  lingering  one.  Looking  round  him,  he  there  beheld 
a  sign-board  on  which  the  painter's  art  had  delineated  some- 
thing remotely  resembling  a  cerulean  elephant  with  an  aqui- 
line nose  in  lieu  of  a  trunk.  Rightly  conjecturing  that  this 
was  the  Blue  Boar  himself,  he  stepped  into  the  house,  and 
inquired  concerning  his  parent. 

"  He  won't  be  here  this  three  quarters  of  an  hour  or  more," 
said  the  young  lady  who  superintended  the  domestic  ar- 
rangements of  the  Blue  Boar. 

"  Wery  good,  my  dear,"  replied  Sam.  "  Let  me  have  nine 
penn'orth  o'  brandy  and  water  luke,  and  the  inkstand,  will 
you,  miss  ?" 

The  brandy  and  water  luke  and  the  inkstand  having  been 
carried  into  the  little  parlor,  and  the  young  lady  having  care- 
fully  flattened  down  the  coals  to  prevent  their  blazing,  and 
carried  away  the  poker  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  the  fire 
being  stirred  without  the  full  privity  and,  concurrence  of  the 
Blue  Boar  being  first  had  and  obtained,  Sam  Weller  sat  him- 
self down  in  a  box  near  the  stove,  and  pulled  out  the  sheet 
of  gilt-edged  letter-paper,  and  the  hard-nibbed  pen.  Then, 
looking  carefully  at  the  pen  to  see  that  there  were  no  hairs 
in  it,  and  dusting  down  the  table  so  that  there  might  be  no 
crumbs  of  bread  under  the  paper,  Sam  tucked  up  the  cuffs 
of  his  coat,  squared  his  elbows,  and  composed  himself  to 
write. 

To  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  are  not  in  the  habit  of  de- 
voting themselves  practically  to  the  science  of  penmanship, 
writing  a  letter  is  no  very  easy  task,  it  being  always  con- 
sidered necessary  in  such  cases  for  the  writer  to  incline  his 
head  on  his  left  arm,  so  as  to  place  his  eyes  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible on  a  level  with  the  paper,  and,  while  glancing  sideways 
at  the  letters  he  is  constructing,  to  form  with  his  tongue 
imaginary  characters  to  correspond.  These  motions,  al- 
though unquestionably  of  the  greatest  assistance  to  origi- 
nal composition,  retard  in  some  degree  the  progress  of  the 
writer,  and  Sam  had  unconsciously  been  a  full  hour  and  a 
half  writing  words  in  small  text,  smearing  out  wrong  letters 
with  his  little  finger,  and  putting  in  new  ones  which  required, 
going  over  very  often  to  render  them  visible  through  the 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  367 

old  blots,  when  he  was  roused  by  the  opening  of  the  door 
and  the  entrance  of  his  parent. 

"  Yell,  Sammy,"  said  the  father. 

"Yell,  my  Prooshan  Blue,"  responded  the  son,  laying 
down  his  pen,  "  what's  the  last  bulletin  about  mother-in- 
law?" 

"  Mrs.  Yeller  passed  a  wery  good  night,  but  is  uncommon 
perwerse  and  unpleasant  this  mornin' — signed  upon  oath- 
Tony  Yeller,  Esquire.  That's  the  last  vun  as  was  issued, 
Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  untying  his  shawl. 

"  No  better  yet  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  All  the  symptoms  aggerawated,"  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
shaking  his  head.  "But  wot's  that  you're  doin'  of— pursuit 
of  knowledge  under  difficulties — eh,  Sammy  ?" 

"  I've  done  now,"  said  Sam,  with  slight  embarrassment ; 
"  I've  been  a  writin'." 

"  So  I  see,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  Not  to  any  young  'oom- 
an,  I  hope,  Sammy." 

"  Why,  it's  no  use  a  sayin'  it  ain't,"  replied  Sam.  "  It's  a 
walentine." 

"A  what!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  apparently  horror- 
stricken  by  the  word. 

"  A  walentine,"  replied  Sam. 

*  Samivel,  Samivel,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  reproachful  ac- 
cents, u  I  didn't  think  you'd  ha'  done  it.  Arter  the  warnin' 
you've  had  o'  your  father's  wicious  propensities ;  arter  all 
I've  said  to  you  upon  this  here  wery  subject ;  arter  actiwal- 
ly  seein'  and  bein'  in  the  company  o'  your  own  mother-in- 
law,  vich  I  should  ha'  thought  wos  a  moral  lesson  as  no  man 
could  ever  ha'  forgotten  to  his  dyin'  day !  I  didn't  think 
you'd  ha'  done  it,  Sammy — I  didn't  think  you'd  ha'  done  it." 
These  reflections  were  too  much  for  the  good  old  man.  He 
raised  Sam's  tumbler  to  his  lips  and  drank  off  its  contents. 

"  Wot's  the  matter  now  ?"  said  Sam. 

"  Nev'r  mind,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "  it'll  be  a 
wery  agonizin'  trial  to  me  at  my  time  o'  life,  but  I'm  pretty 
tough,  that's  vun  consolation,  as  the  wery  old  turkey  re- 
marked when  the  farmer  said  he  was  afeercl  he  should  be 
obliged  to  kill  him  for  the  London  market." 


388  MANUAL   OP   READING. 

"  Wot'll  be  a  trial  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  To  see  you  married,  Sammy — to  see  you  a  dilluded  wic- 
tim,  and  thinkin'  in  your  innocence  that  it's  all  wery  capital," 
replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  It's  a  dreadful  trial  to  a  father's  feel- 
in's,  that  'ere,  Sammy." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Sam ;  "  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  get  married ; 
don't  you  fret  yourself  about  that ;  I  know  you're  a  judge  of 
these  things.  Order  in  your  pipe,  and  I'll  read  you  the  let- 
ter— there."  

THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 

We  can  not  distinctly  say  whether  it  was  the  prospect  of 
the  pipe,  or  the  consolatory  reflection  that  a  fatal  disposi- 
tion to  get  married  ran  in  the  family  and  couldn't  be  helped, 
which  calmed  Mr.  Weller's  feelings,  and  caused  his  grief  to 
subside.  We  should  be  rather  disposed  to  say  that  the  result 
was  attained  by  combining  the  two  sources  of  consolation, 
for  he  repeated  the  second  in  a  low  tone  very  frequently, 
ringing  the  bell  meanwhile  to  order  in  the  first.  He  then  di- 
vested himself  of  his  upper  coat,  and  lighting  the  pipe,  and 
placing  himself  in  front  of  the  fire,  with  his  back  towards  it, 
so  that  he  could  feel  its  full  heat  and  recline  against  the 
mantel-piece  at  the  same  time,,  turned  towards  Sam,  and, 
with  a  countenance  greatly  mollified  by  the  softening  influ- 
ence of  tobacco,  requested  him  to  "fire  away." 

Sam  dipped  his  pen  into  the  ink,  to  be  ready  for  any  cor- 
rections, and  began  with  a  very  theatrical  air : 

" '  Lovely—' " 

"Stop,"  said  Mr. Weller,  ringing  the  bell.  "A  double 
glass  o'  the  invariable,  my  dear." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  replied  the  girl,  who  with  great  quick- 
ness appeared,  vanished,  returned,  and  disappeared. 

il  They  seem  to  know  your  ways  here,"  observed  Sam. 

u  Yes,"  replied  his  father,  "  I've  been  here  before  in  my 
time.     Go  on,  Sammy." 

"  '  Lovely  creetur',"  repeated  Sam. 

"  'Tain't  in  poetry,  is  it  ?"  interposed  the  father. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Sam. 

"Wery  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Weller.     "Poetry's  un- 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  36  & 

nat'ral ;  no  man  ever  talked  in  poetry  'cept  a  beadle  on  box- 
in'-day,  or  Warren's  blackin',  or  Rowland's  oil,  or  some  o' 
them  low  fellers ;  never  let  yourself  down  to  talk  poetry, 
my  boy.     Begin  again,  Sammy." 

Mr.  Weller  resumed  his  pipe  with  critical  solemnity,  and 
Sam  once  more  commenced,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  '  Lovely  creetur',  I  feel  myself  a  charmed — ' " 

M  That  ain't  proper,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  taking  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth. 

"  No,  it  ain't  charmed,"  observed  Sam,  holding  the  letter 
up  to  the  light;  "it's  'shamed;  there's  a  blot  there — 'I feel 
myself  ashamed.' " 

"  Wery  good,"  said  Mr.  Weller.     "  Go  on." 

" '  Feel  myself  ashamed  and  completely  cir — '  I  forget  wot 
this  here  word  is,"  said  Sam,  scratching  his  head  with  the 
pen,  in  vain  attempts  to  remember. 

"  Why  don't  you  look  at  it,  then  ?"  inquired  Mr. Weller. 

"  So  I  am  a  lookin'  at  it,"  replied  Sam,  "  but  there's  an- 
other blot ;  here's  a  ' c,'  and  a  ' i,'  and  a  '  d.' " 

"  Circumwented,  p'r'aps,"  suggested  Mr.  Weller. 

"  No,  it  ain't  that,"  said  Sam ;  "  circumscribed — that's  it." 

"That  ain't  as  good  a  word  as  circumwented, Sammy," 
said  Mr.  Weller,  gravely. 

"Think  not?"  said  Sam. 

"  Nothin'  like  it,"  replied  his  father. 

"  But  don't  you  think  it  means  more  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  Yell,  p'r'aps  it  is  a  more  tenderer  word,"  said  Mr. Weller, 
after  a  few  moments'  reflection.     "  Go  on,  Sammy." 

" '  Feel  myself  ashamed  and  completely  circumscribed  in 
a  dressin'  of  you,  for  you  are  a  nice  gal,  and  nothin'  but  it." 

"That's  a  wery  pretty  sentiment,"  said  the  elder  Mr. 
Weller,  removing  his  pipe  to  make  way  for  the  remark. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is  rayther  good,"  observed  Sam,  highly 
flattered. 

"  Wot  I  like  in  that  'ere  style  of  writing,"  said  the  elder 
Mr.  Weller,  "  is,  that  there  ain't  no  callin'  names  in  it— no 
Wenuses,  nor  nothin'  o'  that  kind :  wot's  the  good  o'  callin' 
a  young  'ooman  a  Wenus  or  an  angel,  Sammy  ?" 

"  Ah  !  what,  indeed  ?"  replied  Sam. 
Q2 


'31 0  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

"You  might  jist  as  veil  call  her  a  griffin,  or  a  unicorn,  or 
a  king's  arms  at  once,  vich  is  wery  veil  known  to  be  a  col- 
lection o'  fabulous  animals,"  added  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Just  as  well,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Drive  on,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  complied  with. the  request,  and  proceeded  as  follows ; 
his  father  continuing  to  smoke  with  a  mixed  expression  of 
wisdom  and  complacency  which  was  particularly  edifying. 

"  'Afore  I  see  you  I  thought  all  women  was  alike.' " 

"  So  they  are,"  observed  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  parenthet- 
ically. 

"  '  But  now,' "  continued  Sam,  " c  now  I  find  what  a  reg- 
'lar  soft-headed,  ink-red'lous  turnip  I  must  ha'  been,  for  there 
ain't  nobody  like  you,  though  I  like  you  better  than  nothin' 
at  all.'  I  thought  it  best  to  make  that  rayther  strong,"  said 
Sam,  looking  up. 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  approvingly,  and  Sam  resumed : 

" '  So  I  take  the  privilidge  of  the  day,  Mary,  my  dear — 
as  the  gen'lem'n  in  difficulties  did  ven  he  valked  out  of  a 
Sunday — to  tell  you  that  the  first  and  only  time  I  see  you, 
your  likeness  was  took  on  my  heart  in  much  quicker  time 
and  brighter  colors  than  ever  a  likeness  was  took  by  the 
profeel  macheen  (which,  p'r'aps,  you  may  have  heerd  on, 
Mary,  my  dear),  altho'  it  does  finish  a  portrait,  and  puts  the 
frame  and  glass  on  complete,  with  a  hook  at  the  end  to  hang 
it  up  by,  and  all  in  two  minutes  and  a  quarter.' " 

"  I  am  afeered  that  werges  on  the  poetical,  Sammy,"  said 
Mr.  Weller,  dubiously. 

"  No,  it  don't,"  replied  Sam,  reading  on  very  quickly,  to 
avoid  contesting  the  point. 

" '  Except  of  me,  Mary,  my  dear,  as  your  walentine,  and 
think  over  what  I've  said.  My  dear  Mary,  I  will  now  con- 
clude.'   That's  all,"  said  Sam. 

"  That's  rayther  a  sudden  pull  up,  ain't  it,  Sammy  ?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller. 

"  Not  a  bit  on  it,"  said  Sam ;  "  she'll  vish  there  vos  more, 
and  that's  the  great  art  o'  letter-writin'." 

u  Well,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  there's  somethin'  in  that ;  and 
I  wish  your  mother-in-law'd  only  conduct  her  conwersation 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  371 

on  the  same  gen-teel  principle.  Ain't  you  a  goin'  to  sign 
it?" 

"  That's  the  difficulty,"  said  Sam ;  "  I  don't  know  what  to 
sign  it." 

"  Sign  it — Veller,"  said  the  oldest  surviving  proprietor  of 
that  name. 

"Won't  do,"  said  Sam.  "Never  sign  a  walentine  with 
your  own  name." 

"Sign  it — Pickwick, then,"  said  Mr.Weller;  "it's  a  wery 
good  name,  and  a  easy  one  to  spell." 

"  The  wery  thing,"  said  Sam.  "  I  'could  end  with  a  werse ; 
what  do  you  think  ?" 

"I  don't  like  it,  Sam,"  rejoined  Mr.Weller.  "I  never 
know'd  a  respectable  coachman  as  wrote  poetry,  'cept  one 
as  made  an  affectin'  copy  o'  werses  the  night  afore  he  was 
hung  for  highway  robbery,  and  he  was  only  a  Cambervell 
man,  so  even  that's  no  rule." 

But  Sam  was  not  to  be  dissuaded  from  the  poetical  idea 
that  had  occurred  to  him,  so  he  signed  the  letter 

"  Your  love-sick  Pickwick," 

and  having  folded  it  in  a  very  intricate  manner,  he  squeezed 
a  down-hill  direction  in  one  corner — "  To  Mary,  Housemaid, 
at  Mr.  Nupkins's,  Mayor's,  Ipswich,  Suffolk" — and  put  it  into 
his  pocket,  wafered,  and  ready  for  the  General  Post. 


PUTTING  UP  STOVES. 

One  who  has  had  considerable  experience  in  the  work  of 
putting  up  stoves  says  the  first  step  to  be  taken  is  to  put 
on  a  very  old  and  ragged  coat,  under  the  impression  that 
when  he  gets  his  mouth  full  of  plaster  it  will  keep  his  shirt- 
bosom  clean.  Next  he  gets  his  hands  inside  the  place  where 
the  pipe  ought  to  go,  and  blacks  his  fingers,  and  then  he  care- 
fully makes  a  black  mark  down  one  side  of  his  nose.  It  is 
impossible  to  make  any  headway,  in  doing  this  work,  until 
this  mark  is  made  down  the  side  of  the  nose.  Having  got 
his  face  properly  marked,  the  victim  is  ready  to  begin  the 
ceremony.  The  head  of  the  family — who  is  the  big  goose 
of  the  sacrifice — grasps  one  side  of  the  bottom  of  the  stove, 


372  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

and  his  wife  and  the  hired  girl  take  hold  of  the  other  side. 
In  this  way  the  load  is  started  from  the  wood-shed  towards 
the  parlor.  Going  through  the  door,  the  head  of  the  family 
wTill  carefully  swing  his  side  of  the  stove  around,  and  jamb 
his  thumb-nail  against  the  door-post.  This  part  of  the  cer- 
emony is  never  omitted.  Having  got  the  stove  comforta- 
bly in  place,  the  next  thing  is  to  find  the  legs.  Two  of  these 
are  left  inside  the  stove  since  the  spring  before ;  the  other 
two  must  be  hunted  after  for  twenty-five  minutes.  They 
are  usually  found  under  the  coal.  Then  the  head  of  the 
family  holds  up  one  side  of  the  stove  while  his  wife  puts  two 
of  the  legs  in  place,  and  next  he  holds  up  the  other  side 
while  the  other  two  are  fixed,  and  one  of  the  first  two  falls 
out.  By  the  time  the  stove  is  on  its  legs  he  gets  reckless, 
and  takes  off  his  coat,  regardless  of  his  linen.  Then  he  goes 
off  for  the  pipe,  and  gets  a  cinder  in  his  eye.  It  don't  make 
any  difference  how  well  the  pipe  was  put  up  last  year,  it  will 
be  found  a  little  too  short  or  a  little  too  long.  The  head  of 
the  family  jams  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and,  taking  a  pipe  un- 
der each  arm,  goes  to  the  tin-shop  to  have  it  fixed.  When 
he  gets  back  he  steps  upon  one  of  the  best  parlor  chairs  to 
see  if  the  pipe  fits,  and  his  wife  makes  him  get  down  for  fear 
he  will  scratch  the  varnish  off  from  the  chair  with  the  nails 
in  his  boot-heel.  In  getting  down  he  will  surely  step  on  the 
cat,  and  may  thank  his  stars  if  it  is  not  the  baby.  Then  he 
gets  an  old  chair,  and  climbs  up  to  the  chimney  again,  to 
find  that  in  cutting  the  pipe  off  the  end  has  been  left  too 
big  for  the  hole  in  the  chimney.  So  he  goes  to  the  wood- 
shed, and  splits  one  side  of  the  end  of  the  pipe  with  an  old 
axe,  and  squeezes  it  in  his  hands  to  make  it  smaller.  Final- 
ly he  gets  the  pipe  in  shape,  and  finds  that  the  stove  does 
not  stand  true.  Then  himself  and  wife  and  the  hired  girl 
move  the  stove  to  the  left,  and  the  legs  fall  out  again.  Next 
it  is  to  move  to  the  right.  More  difficulty  with  the  legs. 
Moved  to  the  front  a  little.  Elbow  not  even  with  the  hole 
in  the  chimney,  and  he  goes  to  the  wood-shed  after  some  lit- 
tle blocks.  While  putting  the  blocks  under  the  legs  the 
pipe  comes  out  of  the  chimney.  That  remedied,  the  elbow 
keeps  tipping  over,  to  the  great  alarm  of  the  wife.     Head  of 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  373 

the  family  gets  the  dinner-table  out,  puts  the  old  chair  on  it, 
gets  his  wife  to  hold  the  chair,  and  balances  himself  on  it,  to 
drive  some  nails  into  the  ceiling.  Drops  the  hammer  on  to 
wife's  head.  At  last  gets  the  nails  driven,  makes  a  wire- 
swing  to  hold  the  pipe,  hammers  a  little  here,  pulls  a  little 
there,  takes  a  long  breath,  and  announces  the  ceremony  com- 
pleted. 

Job  never  put  up  any  stoves.  It  would  have  ruined  his 
reputation  if  he  had. 

THE  POWER  OF  HABIT. 

John  B.  Gough. 

I  remember  once  riding  from  Buffalo  to  the  Niagara  Falls. 
I  said  to  a  gentleman,  "  What  river  is  that,  sir  ?" 

"  That,"  said  he,  "  is  Niagara  River." 

"  Well,  it  is  a  beautiful  stream,"  said  I ;  "  bright,  and  fair, 
and  glassy.     How  far  off  are  the  rapids  ?" 

"  Only  a  mile  or  two,"  was  the  reply. 

"Is  it  possible  that  only  a  mile  from  us  we  shall  find  the 
water  in  the  turbulence  which  it  must  show  near  the  Falls  ?" 

"  You  will  find  it  so,  sir."  And  so  I  found  it ;  and  the  first 
sight  of  Niagara  I  shall  never  forget. 

Now,  launch  your  bark  on  that  Niagara  River;  it  is  bright, 
smooth, beautiful,  and  glassy.  There  is  a  ripple  at  the  bow; 
the  silver  wake  you  leave  behind  adds  to  your  enjoyment. 
Down  the  stream  you  glide,  oars,  sails,  and  helm  in  proper 
trim,  and  you  set  out  on  your  pleasure  excursion.  Sudden- 
ly some  one  cries  out  from  the  bank,"  Young  men,  ahoy  /" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  The  rapids  are  below  you  /" 

"  Ha !  ha  !  we  have  heard  of  the  rapids,  but  we  are  not 
such  fools  as  to  get  there.  If  we  go  too  fast,  then  we  shall 
up  with  the  helm  and  steer  to  the  shore ;  we  will  set  the 
mast  in  the  socket,  hoist  the  sail,  and  speed  to  the  land. 
Then  on,  boys  !  don't  be  alarmed ;  there  is  no  danger." 

"  Young  men,  ahoy  there  /" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  The  rapids  are  below  you  /" 

"  Ha  !  ha !  we  will  laugh  and  quaff;  all  things  delight  us 


374  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

What  care  we  for  the  future  !  No  man  ever  saw  it.  Suffi- 
cient for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  We  will  enjoy  life 
while  we  may — will  catch  pleasure  as  it  flies.  This  is  en- 
joyment; time  enough  to  steer  out  of  danger  when  we  are 
sailing  swiftly  with  the  current." 

"  Young  men,  ahoy  !" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Beware  !  beware  !     The  rapids  are  below  you  !" 

"  Now  you  see  the  water  foaming  all  around.  See  how 
fast  you  pass  that  point !  Up  with  the  helm  !  Now  turn  ! 
Pull  hard!  Quick!  quick!  quick!  pull  for  your  lives !  pull 
till  the  blood  starts  from  your  nostrils,  and  the  veins  stand 
like  whip-cords  upon  your  brow  !  Set  the  mast  in  the  sock- 
et !  Hoist  the  sail !  Ah  !  ah !  it  is  too  late  !  Shrieking, 
howling,  blaspheming,  over  they  go." 

Thousands  go  over  the  rapids  of  intemperance  every  year, 
through  the  power  of  habit,  crying  all  the  while,  "  When  I 
find  out  that  it  is  injuring  me,  I  will  give  it  up  /" 


CHRYSOSTOM'S  ELOQUENCE. 

The  following  burst  of  eloquence  from  Chrysostom,  when 
he  was  sentenced  to  banishment,  is  a  good  specimen  of  the 
stylcof  this  "silver-tongued"  preacher: 

"What  can  I  fear?  Will  it  be  death?  But  you  know 
that  Christ  is  my  life,  and  that  I  shall  gain  by  death.  Will 
it  be  exile  ?  But  the  earth  and  all  its  fullness  is  the  Lord's. 
Will  it  be  the  loss  of  wealth  ?  But  we  brought  nothing 
into  the  world,  and  can  carry  nothing  out.  Thus  all  the 
terrors  of  the  world  are  contemptible  in  my  eyes,  and  I 
smile  at  all  its  good  things.  Poverty  I  do  not  fear.  Riches 
I  do  not  sigh  for.  Death  I  do  not  shrink  from,  and  life  I  do 
not  desire,  save  only  for  the  progress  of  your  souls.  But 
you  know,  my  friends,  the  true  cause  of  my  fall.  It  is  that 
I  have  not  lined  my  house  with  rich  tapestry.  It  is  that  I 
have  not  clothed  me  in  robes  of  silk.  It  is  that  I  have  not 
flattered  the  effeminacy  and  sensuality  of  certain  men,  nor 
laid  gold  and  silver  at  their  feet.  But  why  need  I  say  more  ? 
Jezebel  is  raising  her  persecution,  and  Elijah  must  fly.     He- 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  375 

rodias  is  taking  her  pleasure,  and  John  must  be  bound  in 
chains.  The  Egyptian  wife  tells  her  lie,  and  Joseph  must 
be  thrust  into  prison.  And  so,  if  they  banish  me,  I  shall  be 
like  Elias ;  if  they  throw  me  into  the  mire,  like  Jeremiah ; 
if  they  plunge  me  into  the  sea,  like  the  prophet  Jonah ;  if 
into  the  pit,  like  Daniel ;  if  they  stone  me,  it  is  Stephen  that 
I  shall  resemble ;  John,  the  forerunner,  if  they  cut  off  my 
head ;  Paul,  if  they  beat  me  with  stripes ;  Isaiah,  if  they 
saw  me  asunder." 


PSALM  XXIV.—  A  Psalm  of  David. 

The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fullness  thereof;  the  world, 
and  they  that  dwell  therein. 

For  he  hath  founded  it  upon  the  seas,  and  established  it 
upon  the  floods. 

Who  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord  ?  or  who  shall 
stand  in  Ms  holy  place  ? 

He  that  hath  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart ;  who  hath  not 
lifted  up  his  soul  unto  vanity,  nor  sworn  deceitfully. 

He  shall  receive  the  blessing  from  the  Lord,  and  right- 
eousness from  the  God  of  his  salvation. 

This  is  the  generation  of  them  that  seek  him — that  seek 
thy  face,  O  Jacob.     Selah. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lifted  up,  ye  ev- 
erlasting doors,  and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come.  in. 

Who  is  this  King  of  glory  ?  The  Lord  strong  and  mighty, 
the  Lord  mighty  in  battle. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates — even  lift  them  up,  ye  ev- 
erlasting doors,  and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in. 

Who  is  this  King  of  glory  ?  The  Lord  of  hosts,  he  is 
the  King  of  glory.     Selah. 


DANTE  AND  MILTON. 

Macaulay. 
Milton  was,  like  Dante,  a  statesman  and  a  lover,  and,  like 
Dante,  he  had  been  unfortunate  in  ambition  and  in  love. 
He  had  survived  his  health  and  his  sight,  and  the  comforts 
of  his  home  and  the  prosperity  of  his  party.  Of  the  great 
men  by  whom  he  had  been  distinguished  on  his  entrance 


376  MANUAL    OF    READING. 

into  life,  some  had  been  taken  away  from  the  evil  to  come, 
some  had  carried  into  foreign  climates  their  unconquerable 
hatred  to  oppression,  some  were  pining  in  dungeons,  and 
some  had  poured  forth  their  blood  on  scaffolds.  That  hate- 
ful proscription  facetiously  termed  the  Act  of  Indemnity  and 
Oblivion  had  set  a  mark  on  the  poor,  blind,  deserted  poet, 
and  held  him  up  by  name  to  the  hatred  of  a  profligate  court 
and  an  inconstant  people.  Venal  and  licentious  scribblers, 
with  just  sufficient  talent  to  clothe  the  thoughts  of  a  pan- 
der in  the  style  of  a  bellman,  were  now  the  favorite  writers 
of  the  sovereign  and  the  public.  It  was  a  loathsome  herd, 
which  could  be  compared  to  nothing  so  fitly  as  to  the  rab- 
ble of  Comus — grotesque  monsters,  half  bestial,  half  human, 
dropping  with  wine,  bloated  with  gluttony,  and  reeling  in 
obscene  dances.  Amid  these  his  muse  was  placed,  like  the 
chaste  lady  of  the  mask, 'lofty,  spotless,  and  serene,  to  be 
chatted  at,  and  pointed  at,  and  grinned  at  by  *the  whole 
tribe  of  satyrs  and  goblins. 

If  ever  despondency  could  be  excused  in  any  man,  it 
might  have  been  excused  in  Milton.  But  the  strength  of 
his  mind  overcame  every  calamity.  Neither  blindness,  nor 
gout,  nor  penury,  nor  age,  nor  domestic  afflictions,  nor  polit- 
ical disappointments,  nor  abuse,  nor  proscription,  nor  neg- 
lect had  power  to  disturb  his  sedate  and  majestic  patience. 
His  spirits  do  not  seem  to  have  been  high,  but  they  were 
singularly  equable.  His  temper  was  serious,  perhaps  stern, 
but  it  was  a  temper  which  no  suffering  could  render  sullen 
or  fretful.  Such  as  it  was  when,  on  the  eve  of  great  events, 
he  returned  from  his  travels,  in  the  prime  of  health  and 
manly  beauty,  such  it  continued  to  be  when,  after  having 
experienced  every  calamity  which  is  incident  to  our  nature 
— old,  poor,  sightless,  and  disgraced — he  retired  to  his  hovel 
to  die  ! 


GABRIEL  GRUB. 

Charles  Dickens. 
In  an  old  abbey-town  down  in  this  part  of  the  country,  a 
long,  long  while  ago,  there  officiated  as  sexton  and  grave- 
digger  one  Gabriel  Grub. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  377 

A  little  before  twilight  one  Christmas  eve,  Gabriel  shoul- 
dered his  spade,  lighted  his  lantern,  and  betook  himself  to* 
wards  the  old  church-yard,  for  he  had  got  a  grave  to  finish 
by  next  morning,  and,  feeling  very  low,  he  thought  it  might 
raise  his  spirits,  perhaps,  if  he  went  on  with  his  work  at  once. 
As  he  wended  his  way  up  the  ancient  street,  he  saw  the 
cheerful  light  of  the  blazing  fires  gleam  through  the  old 
casements,  and  heard  the  loud  laugh  and  the  cheerful  shouts 
of  those  who  were  assembled  around  them ;  he  marked  the 
bustling  preparations  for  next  day's  good  cheer,  and  smelt 
the  numerous  savory  odors  consequent  thereupon,  as  they 
steamed  up  from  the  kitchen  windows  in  clouds.  All  this 
was  gall  and  wormwood  to  the  heart  of  Gabriel  Grub ;  and 
as  groups  of  children  bounded  out  of  the  houses,  tripped 
across  the  road,  and  were  met,  before  they  could  knock  at 
the  opposite  door,  by  half  a  dozen  curly-headed  little  rascals, 
who  crowded  round  them  as  they  flocked  up  stairs  to  spend 
the  evening  in  their  Christmas  games,  Gabriel  smiled  grimly, 
and  clutched  the  handle  of  his  spade  with  a  firmer  grasp  as 
he  thought  of  measles,  scarlet  fever,  thrush,  whooping-cough, 
and  a  good  many  other  sources  of  consolation  beside. 

In  this  happy  frame  of  mind  Gabriel  strode  along,  return- 
ing a  short,  sullen  growl  to  the  good-humored  greetings  of 
such  of  his  neighbors  as  now  and  then  passed  him,  until  he 
turned  into  the  dark  lane  which  led  to  the  church-yard.  Now 
he  had  been  looking  forward  to  reaching  the  dark  lane,  be- 
cause it  was,  generally  speaking,  a  nice,  gloomy,  mournful 
place,  and  he  was  not  a  little  indignant  to  hear  a  young  ur- 
chin roaring  out  some  jolly  song  about  a  merry  Christmas 
in  this  very  sanctuary.  So  Gabriel  waited  till  the  boy  came 
up,  and  then  dodged  him  into  a  corner,  and  rapped  him  over 
the  head  with  his  lantern  five  or  six  times,  just  to  teach  him 
to  modulate  his  voice.  And  as  the  boy  hurried  away  with 
iiis  hand  to  his  head,  singing  quite  a  different  sort  of  tune, 
Gabriel  Grub  chuckled  very  heartily  to  himself,  and  entered 
the  church-yard,  locking  the  door  behind  him. 

He  took  off  his  coat,  set  down  his  lantern,  and,  getting 
into  the  unfinished  grave,  worked  at  it  for  an  hour  or  so 
with  right  good  will.     But  the  earth  was  hardened  with  the 


378  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

frost,  and  it  was  no  very  easy  matter  to  break  it  up  and 
shovel  it  out ;  and,  although  there  was  a  moon,  it  was  a  very 
young  one,  and  shed  little  light  upon  the  grave,  which  was 
in  the  shadow  of  the  church.  At  any  other  time  these  ob- 
stacles would  have  made  Gabriel  Grub  very  moody  and 
miserable  ;  but  he  was  so  well  pleased  with  having  stopped 
the  small  boy's  singing  that  he  took  little  heed  of  the  scanty 
progress  he  had  made,  and  looked  down  into  the  grave,  when 
he  had  finished  work  for  the  night,  with  grim  satisfaction, 
murmuring,  as  he  gathered  up  his  things, 

"  Brave  lodgings  for  one,  brave  lodgings  for  one, 
A  few  feet  of  cold  earth  when  life  is  done. " 

"  Ho  !  ho  I"  laughed  Gabriel  Grub,  as  he  sat  himself  down 
on  a  flat  tomb-stone,  which  was  a  favorite  resting-place  of 
his,  and  drew  forth  his  wicker  bottle ;  "  a  coffin  at  Christ- 
mas— a  Christmas-box.     Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !" 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !"  repeated  a  voice,  which  sounded  close  be- 
hind him.. 

Gabriel  paused  in  some  alarm,  in  the  act  of  raising  the 
wicker  bottle  to  his  lips,  and  looked  round.  The  bottom  of 
the  oldest  grave  about  him  w7as  not  more  still  and  quiet 
than  the  church-yard  in  the  pale  moonlight.  The  frost  glis- 
tened on  the  tomb-stones,  and  sparkled  like  rows  of  gems 
among  the  stone  carvings  of  the  old  church.  Not  the  faint- 
est rustle  broke  the  profound  tranquillity  of  the  solemn 
scene.  Sound  itself  appeared  to  be  frozen  up — all  was  so 
cold  and  still. 

"  It  was  the  echoes,"  said  Gabriel  Grub,  raising  the  bottle 
to  his  lips  again. 

" It  was  not"  said  a  deep  voice. 

Gabriel  started  up,  and  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  with  as- 
tonishment and  terror,  for  his  eyes  rested  on  a  form  which 
made  his  blood  run  cold. 

Seated  on  an  upright  tomb-stone,  close  to  him,  w^as  a 
strange,  unearthly  figure,  wThom  Gabriel  felt  at  once  was  no 
being  of  this  world.  His  long,  fantastic  legs,  which  might 
have  reached  the  ground,  were  cocked  up,  and  crossed  after 
a  quaint,  fantastic  fashion  ;  his  sinewy  arms  were  bare,  and 
his  hands  rested  on  his  knees.     On  his  short,  round  body  he 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  379 

wore  a  close  covering,  ornamented  with  small  slashes,  and 
a  short  cloak  dangled  on  his  back;  the  collar  was. cut  into 
curious  peaks,  which  served  the  goblin  in  lieu  of  ruff  or  neck- 
erchief; and  his  shoes  curled  up  at  the  toes  into  long  points. 
On  his  head  he  wore  a  broad-brimmed  sugar-loaf  hat,  gar- 
nished with  a  single  feather.  The  hat  was  covered  with 
the  white  frost,  and  the  goblin  looked  as  if  he  had  Sat  on 
the  same  tomb-stone  very  comfortably  for  two  or  three  hun- 
dred years.  He  was  sitting  perfectly  still ;  his  tongue  was 
T)ut  out,  as  if  in  derision ;  and  he  was  grinning  at  Gabriel 
Grub  with  such  a  grin  as  only  a  goblin  could  call  up. 

"  It  was  not  the  echoes,"  said  the  goblin. 

Gabriel  Grub  was  paralyzed,  and  could  make  no  reply. 

"  What  do  you  do  here  on  Christmas  eve  ?"  said  the  gob- 
lin, sternly. 

"  I  came  to  dig  a  grave,  sir,"  stammered  Gabriel  Grub. 

"  What  man  wanders  among  graves  and  church-yards  on 
6uch  a  night  as  this  ?"  said  the  goblin. 

"  Gabriel  Grub  !  Gabriel  Grub  !"  screamed  a  wild  chorus 
of  voices  that  seemed  to  fill  the  church-yard.  Gabriel  look- 
ed fearfully  round — nothing  was  to  be  seen. 

"  What  have  you  got  in  that  bottle  ?"  said  the  goblin. 

"  Hollands,  sir,"  replied  the  sexton,  trembling  more  than 
ever ;  for  he  had  bought  it  of  the  smugglers,  and  he  thought 
that  perhaps  his  questioner  might  be  in  the  excise  depart- 
ment of  the  goblins. 

"  Who  drinks  Hollands  in  a  church-yard  on  such  a  night 
as  this  ?"  said  the  goblin. 

"  Gabriel  Grub !  Gabriel  Grub !"  exclaimed  the  wild  voices 
again. 

The  goblin  leered  maliciously  at  the  terrified  sexton,  and 
then,  raising  his  voice,  exclaimed, 

"And  who,  then,  is  our  fair  and  lawful  prize  ?" 

To  this  inquiry  the  invisible  chorus  replied,  in  a  strain 
that  sounded  like  the  voices  of  many  choristers  singing  to 
the  mighty  swell  of  the  old  church  organ— a  strain  that 
seemed  borne  to  the  sexton's  ears  upon  a  gentle  wind,  and 
to  die  away  as  its  soft  breath  passed  onward ;  but  the  bur- 
den of  the  reply  was  still  the  same — "  Gabriel  Grub  !  Ga- 
briel Grub !" 


380  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

The  goblin  grinned  a  broader  grin  than  before  as  he  said, 
"  Well,  Gabriel,  what  do  you  say  to  this  ?" 

The  sexton  gasped  for  breath. 

"It's  —  it's  —  very  curious,  sir,  very  curious,  and  very 
pretty ;  but  I  think  I'll  go  back  and  finish  my  work,  sir,  if 
you  please." 

"  Work  !"  said  the  goblin ;  "  what  work  ?"     . 

"  The  grave,  sir — making  the  grave,"  stammered  the  sex- 
ton. 

"  Oh,  the  grave,  eh  ?"  said  the  goblin  ;  "  who  makes  graves 
at  a  time  when  all  other  men  are  merry,  and  takes  a  pleas- 
ure in  it  ?" 

Again  the  mysterious  voices  replied,  "  Gabriel  Grub  !  Ga- 
briel Grub !" 

"  I'm  afraid  my  friends*  want  you,  Gabriel — I'm  afraid  my 
friends  want  you." 

"Under  favor,  sir,  I  don't  think  they  can,  sir;  they  don't 
know  me,  sir ;  I  don't  think  the  gentlemen  have  ever  seen 
me,  sir." 

"Oh,  yes  they  have."  "We  know  the  man  with  the 
sulky  face  and  the  grim  scowl,  that  came  down  the  street 
to-night,  throwing  his  evil  looks  at  the  children,  and  grasp- 
ing his  burying-spade  the  tighter.  We  know  the  man  that 
struck  the  boy,  in  the  envious  malice  of  his  heart,  because 
the  boy  could  be  merry  and  he  could  not.  We  know  him 
— we  know  him." 

"  I — I — am  afraid  I  must  leave  you,  sir." 

"  Leave  us  !  Gabriel  Grub  going  to  leave  us  !  Ho  !  ho ! 
ho !" 

As  the  goblin  laughed,  the  sexton  observed  for  one  in- 
stant a  brilliant  illumination  within  the  windows  of  the 
church,  as  if  the  whole  building  were  lighted  up ;  it  disap- 
peared, the  organ  pealed  forth  a  lively  air,  and  whole  troops 
of  goblins,  the  very  counterpart  of  the  first  one,  poured  into 
the  church-yard,  and  began  playing  at  leap-frog  with  the 
tomb-stones,  never  stopping  for  an  instant  to  take  breath,  but 
overing  the  highest  among  them,  one  after  the  other,  with 
the  most  marvelous  dexterity.  The  first  goblin  was  a  most 
astonishing  leaper,  and  none  of  the  others  could  come  near 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  381 

him.  Even  in  the  extremity  of  his  terror,  the  sexton  could 
not  help  observing  that,  while  his  friends  were  content  to 
leap  over  the  common-sized  grave-stones,  the  first  one  took 
the  family  vaults,  iron  railings  and  all,  with  as  much  ease  as 
if  they  had  been  so  many  street-posts. 

At  last  the  game  reached  to  a  most  exciting  pitch ;  the 
organ  played  quicker  and  quicker,  and  the  goblins  leaped 
faster  and  faster,  coiling  themselves  up,  rolling  head  over 
heels  upon  the  ground,  and  bounding  over  the  tomb-stones 
like  foot-balls.  The  sexton's  brain  whirled  round  with  the 
rapidity  of  the  motion  he  beheld,  and  his  legs  reeled  beneath 
him  as  the  spirits  flew  before  his  eyes,  when  the  goblin-king 
suddenly  darted  towards  him,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  collar, 
and  sank  with  him  through  the  earth. 

When  Gabriel  Grub  had  had  time  to  fetch  his  breath, 
which  the  rapidity  of  his  descent  had  for  the  moment  taken 
away,  he  found  himself  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  large  cav- 
ern, surrounded  on  all  sides  by  crowds  of  goblins,  ugly  and 
grim.  In  the  centre  of  the  room,  on  an  elevated  seat,  was 
stationed  his  friend  of  the  church-yard,  and  close  beside 
him  stood  Gabriel  Grub  himself,  without  the  power  of  mo- 
tion. 

M  Cold  to-night,"  said  the  king  of  the  goblins — "very  cold, 
A  glass  of  something  warm,  here." 

At  this  command,  half  a  dozen  officious  goblins,  with  a 
perpetual  smile  upon  their  faces,  whom  Gabriel  Grub  imag- 
ined to  be  courtiers  on  that  account,  hastily  disappeared, 
and  presently  returned  with  a  goblet  of  liquid  fire,  which 
they  presented  to  the  king. 

"  Ah !"  said  the  goblin,  whose  cheeks  and  throat  were 
quite  transparent  as  he  tossed  down  the  flame, "  this  warms 
one  indeed ;  bring  a  bumper  of  the  same  for  Mr.  Grub." 

It  was  in  vain  for  the  unfortunate  sexton  to  protest  that 
he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  taking  any  thing  warm  at  night; 
for  one  of  the  goblins  held  him,  while  another  poured  the 
blazing  liquid  down  his  throat;  and  the  whole  assembly 
screeched  with  laughter  as  he  coughed,  and  choked,  and 
wiped  away  the  tears  which  gushed  plentifully  from  his 
eyes  after  swallowing  the  burning  draught. 


382  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  king,  fantastically  poking  the  taper 
corner  of  his  sugar-loaf  hat  into  the  sexton's  eye,  and  there- 
by occasioning  him  the  most  exquisite  pain — "and  now 
show  the  man  of  misery  and  gloom  a  few  of  the  pictures 
from  our  own  great  store-house." 

As  the  goblin  said  this,  a  thick  cloud,  which  obscured  the 
farther  end  of  the  cavern,  rolled  gradually  away,  and  dis- 
closed, apparently  at  a  great  distance,  a  small  and  scantily- 
furnished,  but  neat  and  clean  apartment.  A  crowd  of  little 
children  were  gathered  round  a  bright  fire,  clinging  to  their 
mother's  gown,  and  gamboling  round  her  chair.  The  moth- 
er occasionally  rose,  and  drew  aside  the  window-curtain,  as 
if  to  look  for  some  expected  object.  A  frugal  meal  was 
ready  spread  upon  the  table,  and  an  elbow-chair  was  placed 
near  the  fire.  A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door ;  the  mother 
opened  it,  and  the  children  crowded  round  her,  and  clapped 
their  hands  for  joy  as  their  father  entered.  He  was  wet  and 
weary,  and  shook  the  snow  from  his  garments  as  the  chil- 
dren crowded  round  him,  and,  seizing  his  cloak,  hat,  stick, 
and  gloves  with  busy  zeal,  ran  with  them  from  the  room. 
Then,  as  he  sat  down  to  his  meal  before  the  fire,  the  children 
climbed  about  his  knee,  and  the  mother  sat  by  his  side,  and 
all  seemed  happiness  and  comfort. 

But  a  change  came  upon  the  view  almost  imperceptibly. 
The  scene  was  altered  to  a  small  bedroom,  where  the  fairest 
and  youngest  child  lay  dying ;  the  roses  had  fled  from  his 
cheek,  and  the  light  from  his  eye ;  and,  even  as  the  sexton 
looked  upon  him,  with  an  interest  he  had  never  felt  or  known 
before,  he  died.  His  young  brothers  and  sisters  crowded 
round  his  little  bed,  and  seized  his  tiny  hand,  so  cold  and 
heavy;  but  they  shrank  back  from  its  touch,  and  looked  with 
awe  on  his  infant  face ;  for,  calm  and  tranquil  as  it  was,  and 
sleeping  in  rest  and  peace,  as  the  beautiful  child  seemed  to 
be,  they  saw  that  he  was  dead,  and  they  knew  that  he  was 
an  angel  looking  clown  upon  them  and  blessing  them  from 
a  bright  and  happy  heaven. 

Again  the  light  cloud  passed  across  the  picture,  and  again 
the  subject  changed.  The  father  and  mother  were  old  and 
helpless  now,  and  the  number  of  those  about  them  was  di- 


MISCELLANEOUS  SELECTIONS.  383 

minished  more  than  half;  but  content  and  cheerfulness  sat 
on  every  face,  and  beamed  in  every  eye,  as  they  crowded 
round  the  fireside,  and  told  and  listened  to  old  stories  of  ear- 
lier and  by-gone  days.  Slowly  and  peacefully  the  father 
sank  into  the  grave,  and,  soon  after,  the  sharer  of  all  his 
cares  and  troubles  followed  him  to  a  place  of  rest  and  peace. 
The  few  who  yet  survived  them  knelt  by  their  tomb,  and 
watered  the  green  turf  which  covered  it  with  their  tears ; 
then  rose,  and  turned  away  sadly  and  mournfully,  but  not 
with  bitter  cries  or  despairing  lamentations,  for  they  knew 
that  they  should  one  day  meet  again ;  and  once  more  they 
mixed  with  the  busy  world,  and  their  content  and  cheerful- 
ness were  restored.  The  cloud  settled  upon  the  picture,  and 
concealed  it  from  the  sexton's  view. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?"  said  the  goblin,  turning 
his  large  face  toward  Gabriel  Grub. 

Gabriel  murmured  out  something  about  its  being  very 
pretty,  and  looked  somewhat  ashamed  as  the  goblin  bent 
his  fiery  eyes  upon  him. 

"  You  a  miserable  man  !"  said  the  goblin,  in  a  tone  of  ex- 
cessive contempt.  "  You  /"  He  appeared  disposed  to  add 
more,  but  indignation  choked  his  utterance ;  so  he  lifted  up 
one  of  his  very  pliable  legs,  and,  flourishing  it  above  his 
head  a  little,  to  insure  his  aim,  administered  a  good  sound 
kick  to  Gabriel  Grub;  immediately  after  which,  all  the 
goblins-in-waiting  crowded  round  the  wretched  sexton,  and 
kicked  him  without  mercy,  according  to  the#  established  and 
invariable  custom  of  courtiers  upon  earth,  who  kick  whom 
royalty  kicks,  and  hug  whom  royalty  hugs. 

"  Show  him  some  more,"  said  the  king  of  the  goblins. 

At  these  words  the  cloud  was  again  dispelled,  and  a  rich 
and  beautiful  landscape  was  disclosed  to  view.  The  sun 
shone  from  out  the  clear  blue  sky,  the  water  sparkled  be- 
neath his  rays,  and  the  trees  looked  greener,  and  the  flowers 
more  gay,  beneath  his  cheerful  influence.  The  water  rippled 
on  with  a  pleasant  sound,  the  trees  rustled  in  the  light  wind 
that  murmured  among  their  leaves,  the  birds  sang  upon  the 
boughs,  and  the  lark  caroled  on  high  her  welcome  to  the 
morning.     Yes,  it  was  morning,  the  bright,  balmy  morning 


384  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

of  summer;  the  minutest  leaf,  the  smallest  blade  of  grass, 
was  instinct  with  life.  Man  walked  forth,  elated  with  the 
scene,  and  all  was  brightness  and  splendor. 

"  You  a  miserable  man  !"  said  the  king  of  the  goblins,  in 
a  more  contemptuous  tone  than  before.  And  again  the 
king  of  the  goblins  gave  his  leg  a  flourish ;  again  it  de- 
scended on  the  shoulders  of  the  sexton;  and  again  the  at- 
tendant goblins  imitated  the  example  of  their  chief. 

Many  a  time  the  cloud  went  and  came,  and  many  a  les- 
son it  taught  to  Gabriel  Grub,  who,  although  his  shoulders 
smarted  with  pain  from  the  frequent  applications  of  the 
goblins'  feet  thereunto,  looked  on  with  an  interest  which 
nothing  could  diminish.  He  saw  that  men  who  worked 
hard,  and  earned  their  scanty  bread  with  lives  of  labor,  were 
cheerful  and  happy,  and  'that  to  the  most  ignorant  the 
sweet  face  of  nature  was  a  never-failing  source  of  cheerful- 
ness and  joy.  Above  all,  he  saw  that  men  like  himself,  who 
snarled  at  the  mirth  and  cheerfulness  of  others,  were  the 
foulest  weeds  on  the  fair  surface  of  the  earth;  and,  setting 
all  the  good  of  the  world  against  the  evil,  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  q,  very  decent  and  respectable  sort  of 
a  world  after  all.  No  sooner  had  he  formed  it  than  the 
cloud  which  had  closed  over  the  last  picture  seemed  to  set- 
tle on  his  senses,  and  lull  him  to  repose.  One  by  one  the 
goblins  faded  from  his  sight,  and  as  the  last  one  disappear- 
ed he  sank  to  sleep. 

The  day  had  .broken  when  Gabriel  Grub  awoke,  and  found 
himself  lying  at  full  length  on  the  flat  grave-stone  in  the 
church-yard,  with  the  wicker  bottle  lying  empty  by  his  side, 
and  his  coat,  spade,  and  lantern,  well  whitened  by  the  last 
night's  frost,  scattered  on  the  ground.  The  stone  on  which 
he  had  first  seen  the  goblin  seated  stood  bolt  upright  before 
him,  and  the  grave  at  which  he  had  worked  the  night  be- 
fore was  not  far  off.  At  first  he  began  to  doubt  the  reality 
of  his  adventures;  but  the  acute  pain  in  his  shoulders,  when 
he  attempted  to  rise,  assured  him  that  the  kicking  of  the 
goblins  was  certainly  not  ideal.  He  was  staggered  again 
by  observing  no  traces  of  footsteps  in  the  snow  on  which 
the  goblins  had  played  at  leap-frog  with  the  grave-stones; 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  385 

but  he  speedily  accounted  for  this  circumstance  when  he 
remembered  that,  being  spirits,  they  would  leave  no  visible 
impression  behind  them.  So  Gabriel  Grujb  got  on  his  feet 
as  well  as  he  could  for  the  pain  in  his  back,  and,  brushing 
the  frost  off  his  coat,  put  it  on,  and  turned  his  face  toward 
the  town. 

But  he  was  an  altered  man,  and  he  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  returning  to  a  place  where  his  repentance  would 
be  scoffed  at,  and  his  reformation  disbelieved.  He  hesitated 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  turned  away  to  wander  where 
he  might,  and  seek  his  bread  elsewhere. 

The  lantern,  the  spade,  and  the  wicker  bottle  were  found 
that  day  in  the  church-yard.  There  were  a  great  many 
speculations  about  the  sexton's  fate  at  first,  but  it  wras 
speedily  determined  that  he  had  been  carried  away  by  the 
goblins ;  and  there  were  not  wanting  some  very  credible 
witnesses  who  had  distinctly  seen  him  whisked  through  the 
air  on  the  back  of  a  chestnut  horse  blind  of  one  eye,  with 
the  hind  quarters  of  a  lion,  and  the  tail  of  a  bear.  At  length 
all  this  was  devoutly  believed ;  and  the  new  sexton  used  to 
exhibit  to  the  curious,  for  a  trifling  emolument,  a  good-sized 
piece  of  the  church  weathercock  which  had  been  accident- 
ally kicked  off  by  the  aforesaid  horse  in  his  aerial  flight,  and 
picked  up  by  himself  in  the  church-yard  a  year  or  two  after- 
ward. 

Unfortunately,  these  stories  were  somewhat  disturbed  by 
the  unlooked-for  reappearance  of  Gabriel  Grub  himself  some 
ten  years  afterward,  a  ragged,  contented,  rheumatic  old 
man.  He  told  his  story  to  the  clergyman,  and  also  to  the 
mayor,  and  in  course  of  time  it  began  to  be  received  as  a 
matter  of  history,  in  which  form  it  has  continued  down  to 
this  very  day.  The  believers  in  the  weathercock  tale,  hav- 
ing misplaced  their  confidence  once,  were  not  easily  pre- 
vailed upon  to  part  with  it  again,  so  they  looked  as  wise  as 
they  could,  shrugged  their  shoulders,  touched  their  fore- 
heads, and  murmured  something  about  Gabriel  Grub's  hav- 
ing drunk  all  the  Hollands,  and  then  fallen  asleep  on  the  flat 
tomb-stone ;  and  they  affected  to  explain  what  he  supposed 
he  had  witnessed  in  the  goblins'  cavern  by  saying  he  had 

Pw 


386  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

seen  the  world  and  grown  wiser.  But  this  opinion,  which 
was  by  no  means  a  popular  one  at  any  time,  gradually  died 
off;  and,  be  the  matter  how  it  may,  as  Gabriel  Grub  was 
afflicted  with  rheumatism  to  the  end  of  his  days,  this  story 
has  at  least  one  moral,  if  it  teach  no  better  one — and  that 
is,  that  if  a  man  turns  sulky  and  drinks  at  Christmas  time, 
he  may  make  up  his  mind  to  be  not  a  bit  the  better  for  it, 
let  the  spirits  be  ever  so  good,  or  let  them  be  even  as  many 
degrees  beyond  proof  as  those  which  Gabriel  Grub  saw  in 
the  goblins'  cavern. 

PATRICK  O'ROURKE  AND  THE  FROGS.—  A  Cold-water  Story. 

George  W.  Bungay. 

Saint  Patrick  did  a  vast  deal  of  good  in  his  day:  he  not 
only  drove  the  snakes  out,of  Ireland,  but  he  also  drove  away 
the  frogs ;  at  least  I  judge  so  from  the  fact  that  Patrick 
O'Rourke  was  unfamiliar  with  the  voices  of  these  noisy  hy- 
dropaths.  Pat  had  been  visiting  at  the  house  of  a  friend, 
and  he  had,  unfortunately,  imbibed  more  whisky  than  ordi- 
nary mortals  can  absorb  with  safety  to  their  persons.  On 
his  home  return  the  road  was  too  narrow,  and  he  performed 
wonderful  feats  in  his  endeavors  to  maintain  the  centre  of 
gravity.  Now  he  seemed  to  exert  his  best  efforts  to  walk 
on  both  sides  of  the  road  at  the  same  time ;  then  he  would 
fall,  and  feel  upward  for  the  ground  ;  then  he  would  slowly 
pick  himself  up,  and  the  ground  would  rise  and  hit  him 
square  in  the  face.  By  the  time  he  reached  the  meadow- 
lands,  located  about  half  way  between  his  home  and  the 
shanty  of  his  friend,  he  was  somewhat  sobered  by  the  ups 
and  downs  he  had  experienced  on  the  way. 

Hearing  strange  voices,  he  stopped  suddenly  to  ascertain, 
if  possible,  the  purport  of  their  language.  Judge  his  aston- 
ishment when  he  heard  his  own  name  distinctly  called — 
"Patrick  O'Rourke— Patrick  O'Rourke." 

"  Faith,  that's  my  name,  sure." 

"  Patrick  O'Rourke  —  Patrick  —  O'Rourke  —  Rourke  — 
Rourke." 

"  What  do  ye  want  o'  the  likes  o'  me  ?"  he  inquired. 

"When  did  ye  come  over — come  over — come — over?" 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  387 

"  It  is  jist  tree  months  ago  to  the  minute ;  and  a  bad 
time  we  had,  sure,  for  we  were  all  say-sick,  and  the  passage 
lasted  six  long  wakes." 

"  What  will  ye  do— -do— do  ?    What  will  ye  do— do— do?" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  at  all  at  all,  but  then  I  can  do  any 
thing ;  I  can  dig,  I  can  tind  mason,  and  I  can  hould  office  if 
I  can  git  it." 

"  You  are  drunk — you  are  drunk — drunk — drunk — drunk 
— drunk." 

"  By  my  sowl,  that's  a  lie." 

"You  are  drunk — dead  drunk — drunk — drunk." 

"  Repate  that  same,  if  ye  dare,  and  I  will  take  me  shillaly 
to  ye." 

"You  are  drunk — dead  drunk — drunk — drunk." 

"Jist  come  out  here,  now,  and  stip  on  the  tail  o'  me  coat, 
like  a  man,"  exclaimed  Pat,  in  high  dudgeon,  pulling  oft*  hia 
coat  and  trailing  it  upon  the  ground. 

"  Strike  him — strike  him — strike — strike — strike." 

"  Come  on  wid  ye  !     I'm  a  broth  of  a  boy ;  come  on." 

"  Knock  him  down — down — down." 

"I  will  take  any  one  in  the  crowd;  and,  if  Mike  Mulligan 
was  here,  we  wud  take  all  of  yees  at  onct." 

"Kill  him— kill  him— kill  him." 

"  Och,  murther !  sure  ye  wud  not  be  after  murtherin'  me  ; 
I  was  not  oncivil  to  ye.  Go  back  to  Pate  Dogan's  wid  me 
now,  and  I  will  trate  ivery  one  o'  yees." 

"  We  don't  drink  rum — rum — rum." 

"And  are  ye  all  Father Mathew  men?" 

"  We  are  all  cold-water  men — water  men." 

"  Take  me  advice,  now,  and  put  a  little  whasky  in  the  wa- 
ther,  darlings ;  it  will  kape  the  cowld  out  whin  yees  git  wet, 
and  so  it  will." 

"Moderation — moderation — moderation." 

"  Yis,  that's  the  talk.  But  ye  are  a  set  o'  fut-pads  and 
highwaymen,  hidin'  behind  the  rocks  and  the  traas.  Whin 
I  onct  git  to  Watertown  I  will  sind  Father  Fairbanks  after 
ye,  and  he  will  chuck  ye  into  the  pond,  as  he  did  that  thafe 
who  stole  the  public  money,  and  he  will  howld  ye  there  un- 
til ye  confess,  or  he  will  take  yees  to  the  perleese." 


388  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

"Come  on,  boys — chase  him — chase  him." 

"Faith  and  I  won't  run, but  I  will  jist  walk  right  along; 
for  if  any  o'  me  frinds  should  find  me  here  in  sich  company, 
at  this  hour  o'  the  night,  they  wud  think  I  was  thryin'  for 
to  stale  somethin'.  Take  me  advice,  boys,  and  go  home,  for 
it's  goin'  for  to  rain,  and  ye  will  git  wet  to  the  skin  if  ye 
kape  sich  late  hours." 

"  Catch  him — catch  him — catch  him." 

"  Sure  ye'd  betther  not,  for  I  haven't  got  a  cint  wid  me, 
or  I'd  lave  it  in  yer  jackets.  What's  the  use  o'  stalin'  all  a 
man  has  whin  he  has  jist  nothin'  at  all  at  all.  Bad  luck  to 
ye  for  botherin'  me  so." 

About  this  time  the  frog-concert  was  in  full  tune,  and  the 
hoarse  chorus  so  alarmed  Pat  that  he  took  to  his  heels,  for 
he  was  now  sober  enough  to  run. 


A  CAMP-MEETING  IN  TEXAS. 
In  September,  1836,  the  following  notice  might  have  been 
seen  upon  the  doors  of  every  public  house  and  grocery,  at- 
tached to  the  largest  trees  near  the  cross-roads  and  princi- 
pal trails,  and  even  in  the  remote  dells  of  the  mountains  of 
Texas,  miles  away  from  a  human  habitation  : 

"Barbecue  Camp-meeting. 

"There  will  be  a  camp -meeting,  to  commence  the  last 
Monday  of  this  month,  at  the  Double-spring  Grove,  near  Pe- 
ter Brinton's,  in  the  county  of  Shelby. 

"  The  exercises  will  open  with  a  splendid  barbecue. 

u  The  preparations  are  being  made  to  suit  all  tastes : 
there  will  be  a  good  barbecue,  better  liquor,  and  the  best 
of  Gospel.      (Signed)     Paul  Denton,  Missionary,  M.  E.  C." 

The  day  came,  and,  as  he  had  anticipated,  the  meat  and 
drink  brought  a  crowd — a  motley  crowd  of  hunters  and 
herdsmen,  gamblers  and  refugees,  forgers,  thieves,  robbers, 
and  murderers — the  very  ears  he  wished  to  reach.  A  so- 
cial pandemonium,  unprincipled,  without  courts,  or  prisons, 
or  churches,  or  school-houses,  or  even  the  shadow  of  civil 
authority  or  subordination. 

Hence  all  prudent  evangelists  soon  learned  to  shun  the 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  389 

left  bank  of  the  Sabine  as  if  it  had  been  infested  by  a  cohort 
of  demons. 

The  tumult  was  deafening — a  tornado  of  babbling  tongues 
talking,  shouting,  quarreling,  betting,  and  cursing  for  amuse- 
ment. Suddenly  a  cry  arose:  "Colonel  Watt  Foeman  — 
hurrah  for  Colonel  Watt  Foeman  /"  and  the  crowd  parted 
right  aud  left  to  let  the  lion  lyncher  pass.  The  loadstar 
advanced  with  a  satanic  countenance,  ferocious — murderous. 
He  was  a  tall,  athletic,  powerful  man ;  his  train,  a  dozen  arm- 
ed desperadoes.  He  ordered  the  dinner  served,  and  it  was 
spread  before  him.  When  prepared  to  commence  the  sump- 
tuous repast,  a  voice  pealed  from  the  pulpit  loud  as  the  blast 
of  a  trumpet  in  battle,  "Stay,  gentlemen  and  ladies,  till  the 
giver  of  the  barbecue  as7cs  God's  blessing  /" 

Every  ear  started,  every  eye  was  directed  to  the  speaker, 
and  a  whisperless  silence  ensued,  for  all  alike  were  struck  by 
his  remarkable  appearance.  He  was  a  giant  in  stature, 
though  scarcely  twenty  years  of  age ;  his  hair,  dark  as  the 
raveVs  wing,  flowed  down  his  immense  shoulders  in  masses 
of  natural  ringlets  more  beautiful  than  any  ever  wreathed 
around  the  jeweled  brow  of  a  queen  by  the  labored  achieve- 
ments of  human  art ;  his  eyes,  black  as  midnight,  beamed 
like  stars  over  a  face  as  pale  as  Parian  marble — calm,  pas- 
sionless, spiritual.  The  heterogeneous  mass  gazed  in  mute 
astonishment.  The  missionary  prayed, but  it  sounded  like  no 
other  prayer  ever  addressed  to  the  throne  of  the  Almighty. 
It  contained  no  encomiums  on  the  splendors  of  the  divine 
attributes — no  petitions  in  the  tones  of  command — no  ori- 
sons for  distant  places,  times,  or  objects ;  it  related  exclu- 
sively to  the  present  people  and  the  present  hour :  it  was 
the  cry  of  the  naked  soul,  and  that  soul  a  beggar  for  the 
bread  and  water  of  eternal  life.  "JVbw,  my  friends,"  he  said, 
"  partake  of  God's  gifts  at  the  table,  and  then  come  and  sit 
down,  and  listen  to  his  Gospel." 

One  heart,  however  humbled  the  rest,  was  maddened  by 
the  preacher's  wonderful  powers.  Colonel  Watt.  Foeman 
exclaimed,  in  a  sneering  voice, "  Mr.  Paul  Denton,  your  rev- 
erence has  lied.  You  promised  us  not  only  a  good  barbe- 
cue, but  better  liquor ;  where  is  your  liquor  ?" 


390  MANUAL    OP   READING. 

"There  !"  answered  the  missionary,  in  tones  of  thunder, 
and  pointing  his  motionless  finger  at  the  double  spring 
gushing  up  in  two  strong  columns,  with  a  sound  like  a 
shout  of  joy,  from  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  "There!"  he 
repeated,  with  a  look  terrible  as  lightning,  while  his  enemy 
actually  trembled  at  his  feet;  "there  is  the  liquor  which 
God,  the  Eternal,  brews  for  all  his  children !  Not  in  the 
simmering  still,  over  smoking  fires,  choked  with  poisonous 
gases,  and  surrounded  with  the  stench  of  sickening  odors 
and  rank  corruption,  doth  your  Father  in  heaven  prepare 
the  precious  essence  of  life,  pure  cold  water.  But  in  the 
green  glade  and  grassy  dell,  where  the  red  deer  wanders 
and  the  child  loves  to  play,  there  God  himself  brews  it ; 
and  down,  low  down  in  the  deepest  valleys,  where  the  foun- 
tains murmur  and  the  rills  sing — and  high  upon  the  moun- 
tain-tops, where  the  naked  granite  glitters  like  gold  in  the 
sun,  where  the  storm-cloud  broods  and  the  thunder-storms 
crash — and  away,  far  away  out  on  the  wide,  wide  sea,  where 
the  hurricane  howls  music,  and  big  waves  roar  the  chorus, 
*  sweeping  the  march  of  God' — there  he  brews  it,  that  bever- 
age of  life,  health-giving  water ! 

"And  every  where  it  is  a  thing  of  beauty.  Gleaming  in 
the  dew-drop,  singing  in  the  summer  rain,  shining  in  the  ice- 
gem  till  the  trees  seem  turned  to  living  jewels,  spreading  a 
golden  veil  over  the  setting  sun,  or  a  white  gauze  around 
the  midnight  moon  ;  sporting  in  the  cataract,  sleeping  in  the 
glacier,  dancing  in  the  hail-shower,  folding  bright  snow-cur- 
tains softly  above  the  wintry  world,  and  weaving  the  many- 
colored  iris,  that  seraph's  zone  of  the  sky,  whose  warp  is  the 
rain  of  earth,  whose  woof  is  the  sunbeam  of  heaven,  all 
checkered  over  with  celestial  flowers  by  the  mystic  hand  of 
rarefaction — still  always  it  is  beautiful,  that  blessed  cold  wa- 
ter !  No  poison  bubbles  on  its  brink — its  foam  brings  not 
madness  and  murder — no  blood  stains  its  liquid  glass — pale 
widows  and  starving  orphans  weep  not  burning  tears  in  its 
clear  depths — no  drunkard's  shrieking  ghost  from  the  grave 
curses  it  in  words  of  despair !  Speak  out,  my  friends  ;  would 
you  exchange  it  for  the  demon's  drink — alcohol  ?" 

A  shout  like  the  roar  of  the  tempest  answered  "  No !  no  !" 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  391 


AN  IRISH  LETTER. 
Tullymucclescrag,  Parish  of  Ballyraggett,  near  > 
Ballyslughgathey,  Sunday  (God  bless  us),  1864.^ 

My  dear  Nephew, — I  haven't  sent  ye  a  letther  since  the 
last  time  I  wrote  to  ye,  bekase  we  have  moved  from  our 
former  place  of  livin',  and  I  didn't  know  where  a  letther 
would  find  ye ;  but  I  now  with  pleasure  take  up  me  pin  to 
inform  ye  of  the  death  of  yer  own  livin'  uncle,  Ned  Fitzpat- 
rick,  who  died  very  suddenly  last  week  afther  a  lingerin' 
illness  of  six  months.  The  poor  fellow  was  in  violent  con- 
vulsions the  whole  time  of  his  sickness,  lyin'  perfectly  quiet, 
speechless,  all  the  while  talkin'  incoherently,  and  cryin'  for 
wather.  I  had  no  opportunity  of  informin'  ye  of  his  death 
sooner,  except  I  wrote  to  ye  by  the  last  post,  which  same 
went  off  two  days  before  he  died ;  and  then  ye  would  have 
postage  to  pay.  I'm  at  a  loss  to  tell  what  his  death  was 
occasioned  by,  but  I  fear  it  was  by  his  last  sickness,  for  he 
was'  niver  well  ten  days  togither  durin'  the  whole  of  his 
confinement,  and  I  believe  his  death  was  brought  about  by 
his  aitin'  too  much  of  rabbit  stuffed  with  pais  and  gravy,  or 
pais  and  gravy  stuffed  with  rabbit ;  but,  be  that  as  it  may, 
when  he  brathed  his  last,  the  docther  gave  up  all  hope  of 
liis  recovery.  I  needn't  tell  ye  any  thing  about  his  age,  for 
ye  well  know  that  in  March  next  he  would  have  been  just 
seventy-five  years  old  lackin'  ten  months,  and,  had  he  lived 
till  that  time,  would  have  been  just  six  months  dead.  His 
property  now  devolves  to  his  next  of  kin,  which  all  died 
some  time  ago,  so  that  I  expect  it  will  be  divided  between 
us ;  and  ye  know  his  property,  which  was  very  large,  was 
sold  to  pay  his  debts,  and  the  remainder  he  lost  at  a  horse- 
race; but  it  was  the  opinion  of  ivery  body  at  the  time  that 
he  would  have  won  the  race  if  the  baste  he  run  aginst  hadn't 
been  too  fast  for  him. 

I  niver  saw  a  man  in  all  my  life,  and  the  docthers  all  said 
so,  that  observed  directions  or  took  medicine  betther  than 
he  did.  He  said  he  would  as  leve  dhrink  bitter  as  sweet  if 
it  had  only  the  same  taste,  and  ipecakana  as  whisky-punch 
if  it  would  only  put  him  in  the  same  humor  for  fightin'. 


392  MANUAL   OF  READING. 

But,  poor  sowl !  he  will  niver  ate  or  dhrink  any  more,  and 
ye  haven't  a  livin'  relation  in  the  world  except  meself  and 
yer  two  cousins  who  were  kilt  in  the  last  war.  I  can  not 
dwell  on  the  mournful  subject  any  longer,  and  shall  sale  me 
letther  with  black  salin'-wax,  and  put  in  it  yer  uncle's  coat- 
of-arms.  So  I  beg  ye  not  to  brake  the  sale  when  ye  open 
the  letther,  and  don't  open  it  until  two  or  three  days  afther 
ye  resave  this,  and  by  that  time  ye  will  be  well  prepared 
for  the  sorrowful  tidings.  Yer  old  sweetheart  sinds  her 
love  unknownst  to  ye.  When  Jary  McGhee  arrives  in 
America,  ax  him  for  this  letther,  and  if  he  don't  brung  it 
from  amongst  the  rest,  tell  him  it's  the  one  that  spakes 
about  yer  uncle's  death,  and  saled  in  black. 

I  remain  yer  affectionate  ould  grandmother, 

Bridget  O'Hoolegoin. 

P.S. — Don't  write  till  ye  resave  this. 

N.B. — When  yez  come  to  this  place,  stop,  and  don't  rade 
any  more  until  my  next. 

Direct  to  Larry  O'Hoolegoin,  late  of  the  Town  of  Tully- 
mucclescrag,  Parish  of  Ballyraggett,  near  Ballyslughgathey, 
County  of  Kilkenny,  Ireland. 


SCENE  FROM  RICHARD  III.* 

Shakspeare. 

King  Richard,  starting  out  of  his  dream, 

(h.)  (ff.)  Rich.  Give  me  another  horse — bind  up  my  wounds — 

Have  mercy,  Jesu  !     (p.)  Soft;  I  did  but  dream. 
(tr.)  Oh  coward  conscience,  how  dost  thou  afflict  me ! 

The  lights  burn  blue.     It  is  now  dead  midnight. 

Cold,  fearful  drops  stand  on  my  trembling  flesh. 

What  do  I  fear?    Myself?    There's  none  else  by : 

Richard  loves  Richard;  that  is,  Jam  I. 

Is  there  a  murderer  here  ?     No — yes ;  I  am. 

Then  fly.    What,  from  myself ?    Great  reason  !    Why? 

Lest  I  revenge.     What  f    Myself  on  myself? 

*  Richard  III.  was  born  in  1452.  By  successive  murders  he  reached  the 
throne.  In  this  extract  he  appears  just  after  waking  from  a  fearful  dream, 
wherein  the  ghosts  of  his  victims  appear  to  him. 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  393 

I  love  myself.     Wherefore?     For  any  good 

That  I  myself  have  done  unto  myself? 

Oh  no ;  alas  !  I  rather  hate  myself 

For  hateful  deeds  committed  by  myself. 

I  am  a  villain ;  yet  I  lie — I  am  not. 

Fool,  of  thyself  speak  well — fool,  do  not  flatter. 

My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
(<)  And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale, 
(<)  And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villain. 
(ff\)  Perjury,  perjury  in  the  high'st  degree, 

Murder,  stern  murder,  in  the  dir'st  degree, 

All  several  sins,  all  used  in  each  degree, 

Throng  to  the  bar,  crying  all,  (h.)  (ff.)  Guilty  !  guilty  ! 
(1.)     I  shall  despair.     There  is  no  creature  loves  me ; 

And,  if  I  die,  no  soul  will  pity  me : 

Nay,  wherefore  should  they  ?  since  that  I  myself 

Find  in  myself  no  pity  to  myself. 

Methought  the  souls  of  all  that  I  had  murdered 

Came  to  my  tent ;  and  every  one  did  threat 

To-morrow's  vengeance  on  the  head  of  Richard, 


SCENE  FROM  THE  SIEGE  OF  VALENCIA. 

Mrs.  Hemans. 
£Alvar  Gonzalez  is  the  Governor  of  Valencia;  Elmina,  his  wife.  Their 
two  sons,  Alphonso  and  Carlos,  are  held  by  Abdallah,  the  chief  of 
the  besieging  army,  as  hostages  of  war,  the  price  of  whose  ransom  is 
treason — the  yielding  of  the  city  of  Valencia.  Gonzalez  enters,  having 
on  his  trappings  of  war.     Elmina  addresses  him  as  he  enters.] 

Elmina.  My  noble  lord, 

Welcome  from  this  day's  toil !     It  is  the  hour 
Whose  shadows,  as  they  deepen,  bring  repose 
Unto  all  weary  men ;  and  wilt  not  thou 
Free  thy  mailed  bosom  from  the  corslet's  weight, 
To  rest  at  fall  of  eve  ? 

Gonzalez.  There  may  be  rest 

For  the  tired  peasant,  when  the  vesper  bell 
Doth  send  him  to  his  cabin,  there  to  sit 
Watching  his  children's  sports ;  but  unto  me, 
Who  speaks  of  rest  ? 

R2 


394  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Elm.  Oh  why  is  this  ?    How  my  heart  sinks. 

Gonz.  It  must  not  fail  thee  yet, 
Daughter  of  heroes  !     Thine  inheritance 
Is  strength  to  meet  all  conflicts.     Thou  canst  number 
In  thy  long  line  of  glorious  ancestry 
Those  whom  the  earth  call  martyrs ; 

While  heaven  but  claimed  their  blood,  their  lives,  and  not 
The  things  which  grew  as  tendrils  round  their  hearts — 
No,  not  their  children  I 

Elm.  Mean'st  thou?    Know'st  thou  aught? 
I  can  not  utter  it — my  sons  !  my  sons ! 
Is  it  of  them  ?     Oh,  would'st  thou  speak  of  them  ? 

Gonz.  A  mother's  heart  divineth  but  too  well. 

Elm.  Speak,  I  conjure  thee  !    I  can  bear  it  all. 
Where  are  my  children  ? 

Gonz.  In  the  Moorish  camp  ! 

Elm.  Say  they  live  ! 

Gonz.  They  live,  but  there  is  asked  a  ransom  far  too  high. 

Elm.  What !  have  we  wealth 
Which  might  redeem  a  monarch,  and  our  sons 
The  while  wear  fetters  ?    Take  thou  all  for  them. 
Thou  knowest  not  how  serenely  I  could  take 
The  peasants  lot  upon  me,  so  my  heart 
Amidst  its  deep  affections  undisturbed 
May  dwell  in  silence. 

Gonz.  Canst  thou  bear  disgrace  f 

Elm.  We  were  not  born  for  this. 

Gonz.  No,  thou  say'st  wrell. 
Hold  to  that  lofty  faith.     But  he  for  whom 
Freedom  and  life  may  but  be  won  with  shame, 
Hath  naught  to  do  save  fearlessly  to  fix 
His  steadfast  look  on  the  majestic  heavens, 
And  proudly  die. 

Elm.  Gonzalez,  who  must  die  ? 

Gonz.  They  on  whose  lives  a  fearful  price  is  set, 
But  to  be  paid  by  treason. 
Our  sons  must  die  unless  I  yield  the  city. 

Elm.  Is  there  no  hope  ?    Tell  me  there  is  some  hope. 

Gonz.  Hope  but  in  Him 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  395 

Who  bade  the  patriarch  lay  his  fair  young  son 
Bound  on  the  shrine  of  sacrifice,  and  when 
The  bright  steel  quivered  in  the  father's  hand, 
Just  raised  to  strike,  sent  forth  His  awful  voice 
Commanding  to  withhold  !     Earth  has  no  hope ; 
It  rests  with  Him. 

Elm,  Thou  canst  not  tell  me  this — 

Thou,  father  of  my  sons,  within  whose  hands 
Doth  lie  my  children's  fate ! 

Gonz.  Hast  thou  cause, 

Wife  of  my  youth,  to  deem  it  lies  within 
The  bounds  of  possible  things,  that  I  should  link 
My  name  with  that  word — traitor  f    They  that  sleep 
On  their  proud  battle-fields,  thy  sires  and  mine, 
Died  not  for  this.  m 

Elm,  Then  their  doom  is  sealed. 

Thou  wilt  not  save  thy  children  ? 

Gonz,  Think'st  thou  /feel  no  pangs  ? 
He  that  hath  given  me  sons  doth  know  the  heart 
Whose  treasure  he  recalls.     Of  this  no  more  ; 
'Tis  vain  I  tell  thee  that  the  inviolate  Cross 
Still  from  our  ancient  temples  must  look  up 
Through  the  blue  heavens  of  Spain,  though  at  its  foot 
I  perish,  with  my  race. 

Elm.  Scorn  me  not 

In  mine  extreme  of  misery.    Thou  art  strong ; 
Thy  heart  is  not  as  mine.     My  brain  grows  wild — 
I  know  not  what  I  ask.     And  yet  'twere  but 
Anticipating  fate,  since  it  must  fall — 
That  Cross  must  fall.     There  is  no  power, 
No  hope  within  this  city  of  the  grave, 
To  keep  its  place  on  high. 

Gonz,  We  have  but  to  bow  the  head  in  silence 
When  heaven's  voice  calls  back  things  we  love. 

Elm,  Love  !  love  !  there  is  none 
In  all  this  cold  and  hollow  world — no  fount 
Of  deep,  strong,  deathless  love,  save  that  within 
The  mother's  heart.     It  is  but  pride  wherewith 
To  his  fair  son  the  father's  eye  doth  turn, 


396  MANUAL    OF   BEADING. 

Watching  his  growth.     Ay,  on  the  boy  he  looks, 
The  bright,  glad  creature  springing  in  his  path, 
But  as  the  heir  of  his  great  name,  the  young 
And  stately  tree  whose  rising  strength  ere  long 
Shall  bear  his  trophies  well.     And  this  is  love  ! 
This  is  maris  love  !     What  marvel  ?    You  ne'er  made 
■  Your  breast  the  pillow  of  his  infancy ; 
You  ne'er  kept  watch 
Beside  him  till  the  last  pale  star  had  set, 
And  morn  all  dazzling,  as  in  triumph,  broke 
On  your  dim,  weary  eye.     Not  yours  the  face 
Which,  early  faded  through  fond  care  for  him, 
Hung  o'er  his  sleep,  and,  duly  as  heaven's  light, 
Was  there  to  greet  his  wakening.    You  ne'er  smoothed 
His  couch,  ne'er  sang  him  to  his  rosy  rest, 
Caught  his  least  whisper,  when  his  voice  from  yours 
Had  learned  soft  utterance,  pressed  your  lip  to  hia 
When  fever  parched  it,  hushed  his  wayward  crk.8 
With  patient,  vigilant,  never-wearied  love ! 
No ;  these  are  woman's  tasks.     In  these  her  youth, 
And  bloom  of  cheek,  and  buoyancy  of  heart 
Steal  from  her  all  unmarked.     My  boys  !  my  boys ! 
Hath  vain  affection  borne  with  all  for  this  ? 

Gonz.  Is  there  strength  in  man 

Thus  to  endure  ?    That  thou  couldst  read,  through  all 
Its  depth  of  silent  agony,  the  heart 
Thy  voice  of  woe  doth  rend  ! 

Elm.  Thy  heart !  thy  heart !    Away  !  it  feels  not  now  / 
But  an  hour  comes  to  tame  the  mighty  man 
Unto  the  infant's  weakness ;  nor  shall  Heaven 
Spare  you  that  bitter  chastening.     May  you  live 
To  be  alone  when  loneliness  doth  seem 
Most  heavy  to  sustain  !     For  me,  my  voice 
Of  prayer  and  fruitless  weeping  shall  be  soon 
With  all  forgotten  sounds ;  my  quiet  place 
Low  with  my  lovely  ones ;  and  we  shall  sleep— * 
Though  kings  lead  armies  o'er  us,  we  shall  sleep, 
Wrapped  in  earth's  covering  mantle.     You  the  while 
Shall  sit  within  your  vast  forsaken  halls, 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  397 

And  hear  the  wild  and  melancholy  winds 

Moan  through  their  drooping  banners,  nevermore 

To  wave  above  your  race.     Ay,  then  call  up 

Shadows,  dim  phantoms  from  ancestral  tombs, 

To  people  that  cold  void.     And  when  the  strength 

From  your  right  arm  hath  melted,  when  the  blast 

Of  the  shrill  clarion  gives  your  heart  no  more 

A  fiery  wakening,  if  at  last  you  pine 

For  the  glad  voices  and  the  bounding  steps 

Once  through  your  home  re-echoing,  and  the  clasp 

Of  twining  arms,  and  all  the  joyous  light 

Of  eyes  that  laughed  with  youth,  and  made  your  board 

A  place  of  sunshine — when  those  days  are  "come, 

Then,  in  your  utter  desolation,  turn 

To  the  cold  world — the  smiling,  faithless  world, 

Which  hath  swept  past  you  long — and  bid  it  quenca 

Your  soul's  deep  thirst  with  fame — immortal  fame. 

Fame  to  the  sick  of  heart !     A  gorgeous  robe — 

A  crown  of  victory  unto  him  that  dies 

I'  the  burning  waste  for  water ! 

Gonz.  This  from  thee ! 
Now  the  last  drop  of  bitterness  is  poured. 
Elmina,  I  forgive  thee. 

Aid  me,  Heaven, 
From  whom  alone  is  power.     Oh,  thou  hast  set 
Duties  so  stern  of  aspect  in  my  path 
They  almost  to  my  startled  gaze  assume 
The  hue  of  things  less  hallowed.     Men  have  sunk 
Unblamed  beneath  such  trials.     Doth  not  He 
Who  made  us  know  the  limits  of  our  strength  ? 
My  wife  !  my  sons !     Away  !  I  must  not  pause 
To  give  my  heart  one  moment's  mastery  thus ! 


SCENE  FROM  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 
Belmont.     A  Room  in  Portia's  House. 
Portia.  By  my  troth,  Nerissa,  my  little  body  is  aweary  of 
this  great  world. 

JVerissa.  You  would  be,  sweet  madam,  if  your  miseries 


398  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

were  in  the  same  abundance  as  your  good  fortunes  are ;  and 
yet,  for  aught  I  see,  they  are  as  sick  that  surfeit  with  too 
much  as  they  that  starve  with  nothing.  It  is  no  mean  hap- 
piness, therefore,  to  be  seated  in  the  mean ;  superfluity  comes 
sooner  by  white  hairs,  but  competency  lives  longer. 

Por.  Good  sentences  and  well  pronounced. 

JVer.  They  would  be  better  if  well  followed. 

Por.  If  to  do  were  as  easy  as  to  know  what  were  good  to 
do,  chapels  had  been  churches,  and  poor  men's  cottages 
princes'  palaces.  It  is  a  good  divine  that  follows  his  own 
instructions.  I  can  easier  teach  twenty  what  were  good  to 
be  done,  than  be  one  of  the  twenty  to  follow  mine  own  teach- 
ing. The  brain  may  devise  laws  for  the  blood,  but  a  hot 
temper  leaps  over  a  cpld  decree ;  such  a  hare  is  madness,  the 
youth,  to  skip  o'er  the  meshes  of  good  counsel,  the  cripple. 
But  this  reasoning  is  not  in  the  fashion  to  choose  me  a  hus- 
band. Oh  me !  the  word  choose !  I  may  neither  choose 
whom  I  would,  nor  refuse  whom  I  dislike ;  so  is  the  will  of 
a  living  daughter  curbed  by  the  will  of  a  dead  father.  Is  it 
not  hard,  Nerissa,  that  I  can  not  choose  one,  nor  refuse  none? 

JVer.  Your  father  was  ever  virtuous,  and  holy  men  at 
their  death  have  good  inspirations;  therefore  the  lottery 
that  he  hath  devised  in  these  three  chests  of  gold,  silver, 
and  lead  (whereof  who  chooses  his  meaning,  chooses  you), 
will,  no  doubt,  never  be  chosen  by  any  rightly,  but  one 
whom  you  shall  rightly  love.  But  what  warmth  is  there  in 
your  affection  toward  any  of  these  princely  suitors  that  are 
already  come  ? 

Por.  I  pray  thee  overname  them ;  and,  as  thou  namest 
them,  I  will  describe  them ;  and,  according  to  my  descrip- 
tion, level  at  my  affection. 

JVer.  First,  there  is  the  Neapolitan  prince. 

Por.  Ay,  that's  a  colt,  indeed,  for  he  doth  nothing  but 
talk  of  his  horse ;  and  he  makes  it  a  great  appropriation  to 
his  own  good  parts  that  he  can  shoe  him  himself. 

JVer.  Then  there  is  the  County  Palatine. 

Por.  He  doth  nothing  but  frown,  as  who  should  say, 
"And  you  will  not  have  me  choose;"  he  hears  merry  tales 
and  smiles  not ;  I  fear  he  will  prove  the  weeping  philoso- 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  399 

pher  when  he  grows  old,  being  so  full  of  unmannerly  sad- 
ness in  his  youth.  I  had  rather  be  married  to  a  death's- 
head  with  a  bone  in  his  mouth  than  to  either  of  these.  God 
defend  me  from  these  two ! 

JVer.  How  say  you  by  the  French  lord,  Monsieur  Le  Bon  ? 

Por.  God  made  him,  and  therefore  let  him  pass  for  a  man. 
In  truth, I  know  it  is  a  sin  to  be  a  mocker ;  but  he  !  why,  he 
hath  a  horse  better  than  the  Neapolitan's ;  a  better  bad  hab- 
it of  frowning  than  the  Count  Palatine.  He  is  every  man 
in  no  man  ;  if  a  throstle  sing  he  falls  straight  a  capering  ;  he 
will  fence  with  his  own  shadow.  If  I  should  marry  him  I 
should  marry  twenty  husbands.  If  he  would  despise  me,  I 
would  forgive  him ;  for  if  he  love  me  to  madness,  I  should 
never  requite  him. 

JVer.  What  say  you,  then,  to  Faulconbridge,  the  young 
baron  of  England  ? 

Por.  You  know  I  say  nothing  to  him,  for  he  understands 
not  me,  nor  I  him ;  he  hath  neither  Latin,  French,  nor  Ital- 
ian ;  and  you  wTill  come  into  the  court  and  swear  that  I  have 
a  poor  pennyworth  in  the  English.  He  is  a  proper  man's 
picture ;  but,  alas !  who  can  converse  with  a  dumb  show  ? 
How  oddly  he  is  suited ;  I  think  he  bought  his  doublet  in 
Italy,  his  round-hose  in  France,  his  bonnet  in  Germany,  and 
his  behavior  every  where. 

JVer.  What  think  you  of  the  Scottish  lord,  his  neighbor  ? 

Por.  That  he  hath  neighborly  charity  in  him,  for  he  bor- 
rowed a  box  of  the  ear  of  the  Englishman,  and  swore  he 
would  pay  him  again  when  he  was  able.  I  think  the  French- 
man became  his  surety,  and  sealed  under  for  another. 

JVer.  How  like  you  the  young  German,  the  Duke  of  Sax- 
ony's nephew. 

Por.  Very  vilely  in  the  morning,  when  he  is  sober,  and 
most  vilely  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  is  drunk ;  when  he  is 
best,  he  is  a  little  worse  than  a  man,  and  when  he  is  worst, 
he  is  little  better  than  a  beast ;  and  the  wTorst  fall  that  ever 
fell,  I  hope  I  shall  make  shift  to  go  without  him. 

JVer.  If  he  should  make  offer  to  choose,  and  choose  the 
right  casket,  you  would  refuse  to  perform  your  father's  will 
if  you  should  refuse  to  accept  him. 


400  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Por.  Therefore,  for  fear  of  the  worst,  I  pray  thee  set  a 
deep  glass  of  Rhenish  wine  on  the  contrary  casket ;  for,  if 
the  devil  be  within,  and  that  temptation  without,Iknow  he 
will  choose  it.  I  will  do  any  thing,  Nerissa,  ere  I  will  be 
married  to  a  sponge. 

JVer.  You  need  not  fear,  lady,  the  having  any  of  these 
lords ;  they  have  acquainted  me  with  their  determinations, 
which  is,  indeed,  to  return  to  their  home,  and  to  trouble  you 
with  no  more  suit,  unless  you  may  be  won  by  some  other 
sort  than  your  father's  imposition,  depending  on  the  caskets. 

Por.  If  I  live  to  be  as  old  as  Sibylla,  I  will  die  as  chaste 
as  Diana,  unless  I  be  obtained  by  the  manner  of  my  father's 
will.  I  am  glad  this  parcel  of  wooers  are  so  reasonable,  for 
there  is  not  one  among  them  but  I  dote  on  his  very  absence, 
and  I  pray  God  grant  them  a  fair  departure. 

JSTer.  Do  you  not  remember,  lady,  in  your  father's  time,  a 
Venetian,  a  scholar  and  a  soldier,  that  came  hither  in  com- 
pany of  the  Marquis  of  Montferrat  ? 

Por.  Yes,  yes;  it  was  Bassanio;  as  I  think,  so  he  was 
called. 

JVer.  True,  madam ;  he,  of  all  the  men  that  ever  my  fool- 
ish eyes  looked  upon,  was  the  best  deserving  a  fair  lady. 

Por.  I  remember  him  well,  and  I  remember  him  worthy 
of  thy  praise. 

Enter  a  Servant. 
How  now  !  what  news  ? 

Serv.  The  four  strangers  seek  for  you,  madam,  to  take 
their  leave ;  and  there  is  a  forerunner  come  from  a  fifth,  the 
Prince  of  Morocco,  who  brings  word  the  prince,  his  master, 
will  be  here  to-night. 

Por.  If  I  could  bid  the  fifth  welcome  with  so  good  heart 
as  I  can  bid  the  other  four  farewell,  I  should  be  glad  of  his 
,  approach ;  if  he  have  the  condition  of  a  saint,  and  the  com- 
plexion of  a  devil,  I  had  rather  he  should  shrive  me  than 
wive  me. 

Come,  Nerissa.     Sirrah,  go  before. 

While  we  shut  the  door  upon  one  wooer,  another  knocks 
at  the  door.  •  [Exeunt. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  401 

SCENE  FROM  THE  RIVALS. 

Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan.* 
ACT  II.    Scene  1. 

Miter  Sir  Anthony. 

Sir,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  here,  and  looking  so  well ; 
your  sudden  arrival  at  Bath  made  me  apprehensive  for  your 
health. 

Sir  Anthony.  Very  apprehensive, I  dare  say,  Jack.  What ! 
you  are  recruiting  here,  hey  ? 

Capt.  Absolute.  Yes,  sir,  I  am  on  duty. 

Sir  A.  Well,  Jack,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  though  I  did  not 
expect  it ;  for  I  was  going  to  write  to  you  on  a  little  matter 
of  business.  Jack,  I  have  been  considering  that  I  grow  old 
and  infirm,  and  shall  probably  not  trouble  you  long. 

Capt.  A.  Pardon  me,  sir,  I  never  saw  you  look  more 
strong  and  hearty,  and  I  pray  fervently  that  you  may  con- 
tinue so. 

Sir  A.  I  hope  your  prayers  may  be  heard,  with  all  my 
heart.  Well,  then,  Jack,  I  have  been  considering  that  I  am 
so  strong  and  hearty,  I  may  continue  to  plague  you  a  long 
time.  Now,  Jack,  I  am  sensible  that  the  income  of  your 
commission,  and  what  I  have  hitherto  allowed  you,  is  but  a 
small  pittance  for  a  lad  of  your  spirit. 

Capt.  A.  Sir,  you  are  very  good. 

Sir  A.  And  it  is  my  wish,  while  yet  I  live,  to  have  my 
boy  make  some  figure  in  the  world.  I  have  resolved,  there- 
fore, to  fix  you  at  once  in  a  noble  independence. 

Capt.  A.  Sir,  your  kindness  overpowers  me.  Yet,  sir,  I 
presume  you  would  not  wish  me  to  quit  the  army  ? 

Sir  A.  Oh !  that  shall  be  as  your  wife  chooses. 

Capt.  A.  My  wife,  sir ! 

Sir  A.  Ay,  ay,  settle  that  between  you — settle  that  be- 
tween you. 

*  The  scene  of  the  comedy  is  laid  in  Bath.  Sir  Anthony  is  a  high-spirit- 
ed, kind-hearted  old  gentleman,  and  Captain  Absolute  is  his  nephew,  whom 
he  pets  and  scolds.  The  lady  that  Sir  Anthony  proposes  for  his  nephew  is 
really  the  lady  that  the  captain  loves,  but  he,  in  ignorance  of  that  fact,  re 
jects  the  proposition  with  determination. 


402  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Capt  A.  A  wife,  sir,  did  you  say? 

Sir  A.  Ay,  a  wife — why,  did  not  I  mention  her  before  ? 

Capt.  A.  Not  a  word  of  her,  sir. 

Sir  A.  Odds  so !  I  mustn't  forget  her,  though.  Yes,  Jack, 
the  independence  I  was  talking  of  is  by  a  marriage — the 
fortune  is  saddled  with  a  wife ;  but  I  suppose  that  makes  no 
difference. 

Capt  A.  Sir  !  sir  !  you  amaze  me  ! 

Sir  A.  Why,  what  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  the  fool? 
Just  now  you  w^ere  all  gratitude  and  duty. 

Capt  A.  I  was,  sir;  you  talked  to  me  of  independence 
and  a  fortune,  but  not  a  word  of  a  wife. 

Sir  A.  Why — what  difference  does  that  make?  Odds 
life,  sir,  if  you  have  the  estate,  you  must  take  it  with  the 
live-stock  on  it,  as  it  stands. 

Capt  A.  Pray,  sir,  who  is  the  lady  ? 

Sir  A.  What's  that  to  you,  sir  ?  Come,  give  me  your 
promise  to  love  and  marry  her  directly. 

Capt.  A.  Sure,  sir,  this  is  not  very  reasonable,  to  summon 
my  affections  for  a  lady  I  know  nothing  of. 

Sir  A.  I  am  sure,  sir,  'tis  more  unreasonable  in  you  to  ob- 
ject to  a  lady  you  know  nothing  of. 

Cap>t  A.  You  must  excuse  me,  sir,  if  I  tell  you,  once  for 
all,  that  in  this  point  I  can  not  obey  you. 

Sir  A.  Hark  ye,  Jack !  I  have  heard  you  for  some  time 
with  patience ;  I  have  been  cool — quite  cool ;  but  take  care ; 
you  know  I  am  compliance  itself— when  I  am  not  thwarted ; 
no  one  more  easily  led — when  I  have  my  own  way;  but 
don't  put  me  in  a  frenzy. 

Capt.  A.  Sir,  I  must  repeat  it ;  in  this  I  can  not  obey  you. 

Sir  A.  Now,  hang  me  if  ever  I  call  you  Jack  again  wThile 
I  live ! 

Capt.  A.  Nay,  sir,  but  hear  me. 

Sir  A.  Sir,  I  won't  hear  a  word — not  a  wTord — not  one 
word ;  so  give  me  your  promise  by  a  nod.  And  I'll  tell  you 
what,  Jack — I  mean  you  dog — if  you  don't,  by — 

Capt  A.  What,  sir,  promise  to  link  myself  to  some  mass 
of  ugliness  ? 

Sir  A.  Zounds !  sirrah,  the  lady  shall  be  as  ugly  as  I 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  403 

choose :  she  shall  have  a  hump  on  each  shoulder ;  she  shall 
be  as  crooked  as  the  Crescent ;  she  shall  have  a  skin  like  a 
mummy,  and  the  beard  of  a  Jew — she  shall  be  all  this,  sir- 
rah !  yet  I'll  make  you  ogle  her  all  day,  and  sit  up  all  night 
to  write  sonnets  on  her  beauty. 

Capt.  A.  This  is  reason  and  moderation  indeed  ! 

Sir  A.  None  of  your  sneering,  puppy  !  no  grinning,  jack- 
anapes ! 

Capt.  A.  Indeed,  sir,  I  never  was  in  a  wTorse  humor  for 
mirth  in  my  life. 

Sir  A.  'Tis  false,  sir ;  I  know  you  are  laughing  in  your 
sleeve ;  I  know  you'll  grin  when  I  am  gone,  sirrah ! 

Capt.  A.  Sir,  I  hope  I  know  my  duty  better. 

Sir  A.  None  of  your  passion,  sir — none  of  your  violence, 
if  you  please.     It  won't  do  with  me,  I  promise  you. 

Capt.  A.  Indeed,  sir,  I  never  was  cooler  in  my  life. 

Sir  A.  'Tis  a  confounded  lie !  I  know  you  are  in  a  pas- 
sion in  your  heart ;  I  know  you  are,  you  hypocritical  young 
dog ;  but  it  won't  do. 

Capt.  A.  Nay,  sir,  upon  my  word — 

Sir  A.  So,  you  will  fly  out !  Can't  you  be  cool,  like 
me  ?  What  good  can  passion  do  ?  Passion  is  of  no  serv- 
ice, you  impudent,  insolent,  overbearing  reprobate  !  There, 
you  sneer  again  !  Don't  provoke  me  !  But  you  rely  upon 
the  mildness  of  my  temper — you  do,  you  dog !  you  play 
upon  the  meekness  of  my  disposition !  Yet  take  care  ;  the 
patience  of  a  saint  may  be  overcome  at  last.  But,  mark !  I 
give  you  six  hours  and  a  half  to  consider  of  this :  if  you 
then  agree,  without  any  condition,  to  do  every  thing  on 
earth  that  I  choose,  why — confound  you,  I  may  in  time  foi; 
give  you ;  if  not,  zounds  !  don't  enter  the  same  hemisphere 
with  me ;  don't  dare  to  breathe  the  same  air,  or  use  the 
same  light  with  me,  but  get  an  atmosphere  and  a  sun  of 
your  own.  I'll  strip  you  of  your  commission  ;  I'll  lodge  a 
five-and-threepence  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  and  you  shall 
live  on  the  interest.  I'll  disown  you,  I'll  disinherit  you,  and 
hang  me  if  ever  I  call  you  Jack  again.  [Exit. 

Capt.  A.  Mild, gentle,  considerate  father, I  kiss  your  hands. 


404  MANUAL   OF   READING. 


QUARREL  SCENE  BETWEEN  BRUTUS  AND  CASSIUS. 

Shakspeake. 

Cassius.  That  you  have  wronged  me  doth  appear  in  this ; 
You  have  condemned  and  noted  Lucius  Pell  a 
For  taking  bribes  here  of  the  Sardians ; 
Wherein  my  letters,  praying  on  his  side, 
Because  I  knew  the  man,  were  slighted  off. 

Brutus.  You  wronged  yourself  to  write  in  such  a  case. 

Cas.  In  such  a  time  as  this,  it  is  not  meet 
That  every  nice  offense  should  bear  his  comment. 

Bru.  Let  me  tell  you,  Cassius,  you  yourself 
Are  much  condemned  to  have  an  itching  palm ; 
To  sell  and  mart  your  offices  for  gold 
To  undeservers.       ' 

Cas.  I  an  itching  palm? 

You  know  that  you  are  Brutus  that  speak  this, 
Or,  by  the  gods,  this  speech  were  else  your  last. 

Bru.  The  name  of  Cassius  honors  this  corruption, 
And  chastisement  doth  therefore  hide  his  head. 

Cas.  Chastisement ! 

Bru.  Remember  March,  the  ides  of  March  remember. 
Did  not  great  Julius  bleed  for  justice'  sake  ? 
What  villain  touched  his  body,  that  did  stab, 
And  not  for  justice  ?    What,  shall  one  of  us, 
That  struck  the  foremost  man  of  all  this  world 
But  for  supporting  robbers — shall  we  now 
Contaminate  our  fingers  with  base  bribes, 
And  sell  the  mighty  space  of  our  large  honors 
For  so  much  trash  as  may  be  grasped  thus  ? 
I  had  rather  be  a  dog,  and  bay  the  moon, 
Than  such  a  Roman. 

Cas.  Brutus,  bay  not  me ; 

I'll  not  endure  it :  you  forget  yourself 
To  hedge  me  in ;  I  am  a  soldier — I, 
Older  in  practice,  abler  than  yourself 
To  make  conditions. 

Bru.  Go  to ;  you're  not,  Cassius. 

Cas.  I  am. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  405 

Bru.  I  say  you  are  not. 

Cas.  Urge  me  no  more ;  I  shall  forget  myself; 
Have  mind  upon  your  health ;  tempt  me  no  further. 

Bru.  Away,  slight  man  ! 

Cas.  Is't  possible  ? 

Bru.  Hear  me,  for  I  will  speak. 
Must  I  give  way  and  room  to  your  rash  choler  ? 
Shall  I  be  frighted  when  a  madman  stares  ? 

Cas.  Oh  ye  gods  !  ye  gods  !  must  I  endure  all  this  ? 

Bru.  All  this  ?  ay,  more :  Fret   till  your    proud  heart 
breaks ; 
Go  show  your  slaves  how  choleric  you  are, 
And  make  your  bondmen  tremble.     Must  I  budge  ? 
Must  I  observe  you  ?    Must  I  stand  and  crouch 
Under  your  testy  humor  ?     By  the  gods, 
You  shall  digest  the  venom  of  your  spleen, 
Though  it  do  split  you ;  for,  from  this  day  forth, 
I'll  use  you  for  my  mirth,  yea,  for  my  laughter, 
When  you  are  waspish. 

Cas.  Is  it  come  to  this  ? 

Bru.  You  say  you  are  a  better  soldier : 
Let  it  appear  so ;  make  your  vaunting  true, 
And  it  shall  please  me  well :  for  mine  own  part, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  learn  of  noble  men. 

Cas.  You  wrong  me  every  way ;  you  wrong  me,  Brutus ; 
I  said  an  elder  soldier,  not  a  better: 
Did  I  say  better  ? 

Bru.  If  you  did,  I  care  not. 

Cas.  When  Caesar  lived,  he  durst  not  thus  have  moved 
me. 

Bru.  Peace,  peace ;  you  durst  not  so  have  tempted  him. 

Cas.  I  durst  not  ? 

Bru.  No. 

Cas.  What  ?  durst  not  tempt  him  ? 

Bru.  For  your  life  you  durst  not. 

Cas.  Do  not  presume  too  much  upon  my  love ; 
I  may  do  that  I  shall  be  sorry  for. 

Bru.  You  have  done  that  you  should  be  sorry  for. 
There  is  no  terror,  Cassius,  in  your  threats ; 


406  MANUAL    OF   READING. 

For  I  am  armed  so  strong  in  honesty, 

That  they  pass  by  me  as  the  idle  wind, 

Which  I  respect  not.     I  did  send  to  you 

For  certain  sums  of  gold,  which  you  denied  me— 

For  I  can  raise  no  money  by  vile  means: 

By  Heaven,  I  had  rather  coin  my  heart, 

And  drop  my  blood  for  drachmas,  than  to  wring 

From  the  hard  hands  of  peasants  their  vile  trash 

By  any  indirection.     I  did  send 

To  you  for  gold  to  pay  my  legions, 

Which  you  denied  me :  was  that  done  like  Cassius  ? 

Should  I  have  answered  Caius  Cassius  so  ? 

When  Marcus  Brutus  grows  so  covetous, 

To  lock  such  rascal  counters  from  his  friends, 

Be  ready,  gods,  with'  all  your  thunderbolts — 

Dash  him  to  pieces ! 

Cas.  I  denied  you  not. 

JBru.  You  did. 

Cas.  I  did  not :  he  was  but  a  fool 

That  brought  my   answer  back.     Brutus  hath   rived  my 

heart ; 
A  friend  should  bear  his  friend's  infirmities ; 
But  Brutus  makes  mine  greater  than  they  are. 

JBru.  I  do  not,  till  you  practice  them  on  me. 

Cas.  You  love  me  not. 

Bru.  I  do  not  like  your  faults. 

Cas.  A  friendly  eye  could  never  see  such  faults. 

Bru.  A  flatterer's  would  not,  though  they  do  appear 
As  huge  as  high  Olympus. 

Cas.  Come,  Antony,  and  young  Octavius,  come, 
Revenge  yourselves  alone  on  Cassius ; 
For  Cassius  is  aweary  of  the  world : 
Hated  by  one  he  loves ;  braved  by  his  brother; 
Checked  like  a  bondman ;  all  his  faults  observed, 
Set  in  a  note-book,  learned  and  conned  by  rote, 
To  cast  into  my  teeth.     Oh,  I  could  weep 
My  spirit  from  mine  eyes  !     There  is  my  dagger, 
And  here  my  naked  breast ;  within,  a  heart 
Dearer  than  Plutus'  mine,  richer  than  gold : 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  407 

If  that  thou  be'st  a  Roman,  take  it  forth  ; 

I,  that  denied  thee  gold,  will  give  my  heart : 

Strike,  as  thou  didst  at  Caesar ;  for  I  know, 

When  thou  didst  hate  him  worst,  thou  lovedst  him  better 

Than  ever  thou  lovedst  Cassius. 

Bru.  Sheathe  your  dagger : 

Be  angry  when  you  wTill,  it  shall  have  scope ; 
Do  what  you  will,  dishonor  shall  be  humor. 
Oh  Cassius,  you  are  yoked  with  a  lamb 
That  carries  anger  as  the  flint  bears  fire ; 
Who,  much  enforced,  shows  a  hasty  spark, 
And  straight  is  cold  again ! 

Cas.  Hath  Cassius  lived 

To  be  but  mirth  and  laughter  to  his  Brutus, 
When  grief,  and  blood  ill-tempered  vexeth  him  ? 

Bru.  When  I  spoke  that,  I  was  ill-tempered  too. 

Cas.  Do  you  confess  so  much  ?     Give  me  your  hand. 

Bru.  And  my  heart  too. 

Cas.  Oh  Brutus ! 

Bru.  What's  the  matter? 

Cas.  Have  you  not  love  enough  to  bear  with  me 
When  that  rash  humor,  which  my  mother  gave  me, 
Makes  me  forgetful  ? 

Bru.  Yes,  Cassius ;  and,  henceforth, 

When  you  are  over-earnest  with  your  Brutus, 
He'll  think  your  mother  chides,  and  leave  you  so. 


FROM  " SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL." 

Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan. 
ACT  I.    Scene  2.    Sir  Peter's  House. 

Miter  Sir  Peter. 
Sir  P.  When  an  old  bachelor  marries  a  young  wife,  what 
is  he  to  expect?  'Tis  now  six  months  since  Lady  Teazle 
made  me  the  happiest  of  men,  and  I  have  been  the  most 
miserable  dog  ever  since  !  We  tiffed  a  little  going  to 
church,  and  came  to  a  quarrel  before  the  bells  had  done 
ringing.  I  was  more  than  once  nearly  choked  with  gall 
during  the  honeymoon,  and  had  lost  all  comfort  in  life  be- 


408  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

fore  my  friends  had  done  wishing  me  joy.  Yet  I  chose 
with  caution — a  girl  bred  wholly  in  the  country,  who  never 
knew  luxury  beyond  one  silk  gown,  nor  dissipation  above 
the  annual  gala  of  a  race-ball.  Yet  now  she  plays  her  part 
in  all  the  extravagant  fopperies  of  the  fashion  and  the  town 
with  as  ready  a  grace  as  if  she  had  never  seen  a  bush  or  a 
grass-plot  out  of  Grosvenor  Square !  I  am  sneered  at  by 
all  my  acquaintance,  and  paragraphed  in  the  newspapers. 
She  dissipates  my  fortune,  and  contradicts  all  my  humors ; 
yet  the  worst  of  it  is,  I  doubt  I  love  her,  or  I  should  never 
bear  all  this.    However,  I'll  never  be  weak  enough  to  own  it. 

Enter  Lady  Teazle. 

Sir  P.  Lady  Teazle,  Lady  Teazle,  I'll  not  bear  it. 

Lady  1\  Sir  Peter,'  Sir  Peter,  you  may  bear  it  or  not,  as 
you  please ;  but  I  ought  to  have  my  own  way  in  every 
thing,  and,  what's  more,  I  will  too.  What !  though  I  was 
educated  in  the  country,  I  know  very  well  that  women  of 
fashion  in  London  are  accountable  to  nobody  after  they  are 
married. 

Sir  P.  Very  well,  ma'am,  very  well ;  so  a  husband  is  to 
have  no  influence — no  authority? 

Lady  T.  Authority  !  No,  to  be  sure.  If  you  wanted  au- 
thority over  me  you  should  have  adopted  me,  and  not  mar- 
ried me  :  I  am  sure  you  were  old  enough. 

Sir  P.  Old  enough  !  ay — there  it  is.  Well,  well,  Lady 
Teazle,  though  my  life  may  be  made  unhappy  by  your  tem- 
per, I'll  not  be  ruined  by  your  extravagance. 

Lady  T.  My  extravagance !  I  am  sure  I  am  not  more 
extravagant  than  a  woman  oustfit  to  be. 

Sir  P.  No,  no,  madam,  you  shall  throw  away  no  more 
sums  upon  such  unmeaning  luxury.  'Slife !  to  spend  as 
much  to  furnish  your  dressing-room  with  flowers  in  winter 
as  would  suffice  to  turn  the  Pantheon  into  a  green-house, 
and  give  &fete  champetre  at  Christmas. 

Lady  T.  Sir  Peter,  am  I  to  blame  because  flowers  are  dear 
in  cold  weather  ?  You  should  find  fault  wTith  the  climate,  and 
not  with  me.  For  my  part,  I'm  sure,  I  wish  it  were  spring 
all  the  year  round,  and  that  roses  grew  under  our  feet. 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  409 

Sir  P.  Zounds  !  madam,  if  you  had  been  born  to  this,  I 
should  not  wonder  at  your  talking  thus;  but  you  forget 
what  your  situation  was  when  I  married  you. 

Lady  T.  No,  no,  I  don't ;  'twas  a  very  disagreeable  one, 
or  I  should  never  have  married  you. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  madam ;  you  were  then  in  a  somewhat 
humbler  style  —  the  daughter  of  a  plain  country  squire. 
Recollect,  Lady  Teazle,  when  I  saw  you  first  sitting  at  your 
tambour,  in  a  pretty-figured  linen  gown,  with  a  bunch  of 
keys  at  your  side — your  hair  combed  smooth  over  a  roll, 
and  your  apartment  hung  round  with  fruits  in  worsted  of 
your  own  working. 

Lady  T.  Oh  yes,  I  remember  it  very  well ;  and  a  curious 
life  I  led.  My  daily  occupation,  to  inspect  the  dairy,  super- 
intend the  poultry,  make  extracts  from  the  family  recipe- 
book,  and  comb  my  Aunt  Deborah's  lap-dog. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  ma'am,  'twas  so  indeed. 

Lady  T.  And  then,  you  know,  my  evening  amusements— 
to  draw  patterns  for  ruffles  which  I  had  not  materials  to 
make  up,  to  play  Pope  Joan  with  the  curate,  to  read  a  novel 
to  my  aunt,  or  to  be  stuck  down  to  an  old  spinet  to  strum 
my  father  to  sleep  after  a  fox-chase. 

Sir  P.  I  am  glad  you  have  so  good  a  memory.  Yes, 
madam,  these  were  the  recreations  I  took  you  from ;  but 
now  you  must  have  your  coach — vi$-d~vis — and  three  pow- 
dered footmen  before  your  chair,  and,  in  the  summer,  a  pair 
of  white  cats  to  draw  you  to  Kensington  Gardens.  No  rec- 
ollection, I  suppose,  when  you  were  content  to  ride  double, 
behind  the  butler,  on  a  docked  coach-horse  ! 

Lady  T.  No,  I  swear  I  never  did  that ;  I  deny  the  butler 
and  the  coach-horse. 

Sir  P.  This,  madam,  was  your  situation,  and  what  have  I 
done  for  you  ?  I  have  made  you  a  woman  of  fashion,  of 
fortune,  of  rank ;  in  short,  I  have  made  you  my  wife. 

Lady  71  Well,  then — and  there  is  but  one  thing  more  you 
can  make  me  add  to  the  obligation,  and  that  is — " 

Sir  P.  My  widow,  I  suppose  ? 

Lady  T.  Hem  !  hem  ! 

Sir  P.  I  thank  you,  madam ;  but  don't  flatter  yourself; 

S 


410  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

for,  though  your  ill-conduct  may  disturb  my  peace  of  mind, 
it  shall  never  break  my  heart,  I  promise  you.  However,  I 
am  equally  obliged  to  you  for  the  hint. 

Lady  T.  Then  why  will  you  endeavor  to  make  yourself 
so  disagreeable  to  me,  and  thwart  me  in  every  little  elegant 
expense  ? 

Sir  P.  'Slife  !  madam,  I  say,  had  you  any  of  these  little 
elegant  expenses  when  you  married  me  ? 

Lady  T.  Lud !  Sir  Peter,  would  you  have  me  be  out  of 
the  fashion  ? 

Sir  P.  The  fashion,  indeed !  What  had  you  to  do  with 
the  fashion  before  you  married  me  ? 

Lady  T,  For  my  part,  I  should  think  you  would  like  to 
have  your  wife  thought  a  woman  of  taste. 

Sir  P.  Ay — therd  again — taste  !  Zounds  !  madam,  you 
had  no  taste  when  you  married  me ! 

Lady  T.  That's  very  true,  indeed,  Sir  Peter ;  and,  after 
having  married  you,  I  should  never  pretend  to  taste  again, 
I  allow.  [Laitghs.]  But  now,  Sir  Peter,  since  we  have  fin- 
ished our  daily  jangle,  I  presume  I  may  go  to  my  engage- 
ment at  Lady  SneerwelPs. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  there's  another  precious  circumstance  —  a 
charming  set  of  acquaintance  you  have  made  there. 

Lady  T,  Nay,  Sir  Peter,  they  are  all  people  of  rank  and 
fortune,  and  remarkably  tenacious  of  reputation. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  egad,  they  are  tenacious  of  reputation  with 
a  vengeance,  for  they  don't  choose  any  body  should  have 
a  character  but  themselves.  Such  a  crew  !  Ah  !  many  a 
wretch  has  rid  on  a  hurdle  who  has  done  less  mischief  than 
these  utterers  of  forged  tales,  coiners  of  scandal,  and  clip- 
pers of  reputation. 

Lady  T.  What !  would  you  restrain  the  freedom  of  speech  ? 

Sir  P.  Ah !  they  have  made  you  just  as  bad  as  any  one 
of  the  society. 

Lady  T.  Why,  I  believe  I  do  bear  a  part  with  a  tolerable 
grace. 

Sir  P.  Grace,  indeed ! 

Lady  T.  But  I  vow  I  bear  no  malice  against  the  people  1 
abuse.     When  I  say  an  ill-natured  thing,  'tis  out  of  pure 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  411 

good  humor,  and  I  take  it  for  granted  they  deal  exactly  in 
the  same  manner  with  me.  But,  Sir  Peter,  you  know  you 
promised  to  come  to  Lady  SneerwelPs  too. 

Sir  P.  Well,  well,  I'll  call  in  just  to  look  after  my  owrn 
character. 

Lady  T.  Then,  inaeed,  you  must  make  haste  after  me,  or 
you'll  be  too  late.     So  good-by  to  ye.  [Mcil. 

Sir  P.  So — I  have  gained  much  by  my  intended  expostu- 
lation ;  yet  with  what  a  charming  air  she  contradicts  every 
thing  I  say,  and  how  pleasingly  she  shows  her  contempt  for 
my  authority!  Well,  though  I  can't  make  her  love  me, 
there  is  great  satisfaction  in  quarreling  with  her ;  and.  I 
think  she  never  appears  to  such  advantage  as  wThen  she  is 
doing  every  thing  in  "her  power  to  plague  me.  [Exit. 

ACT  II.    Scene  1. 

Miter  Lady  Teazle. 

Sir  P.  I  mean  shortly  to  surprise  you ;  but  shall  we  al- 
ways live  thus,  hey  ? 

Lady  T.  If  you  please.  I'm  sure  I  don't  care  how  soon 
we  leave  off  quarreling,  provided  you'll  own  you're  tired  first. 

Sir  P.  Well,  then,  let  our  future  contest  be  who  shall  be 
most  obliging. 

Lady  T.  I  assure  you,  Sir  Peter,  good  nature  becomes 
you.  You  look  now  as  you  did  before  we  were  married, 
when  you  used  to  walk  with  me  under  the  elms,  and  tell  me 
stories  of  what  a  gallant  you  were  in  your  youth,  and  chuck 
me  under  the  chin,  you  would,  and  ask  me  if  I  thought  I 
could  love  an  old  fellow  who  would  deny  me  nothing ; 
didn't  you  ? 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes  ;  and  you  were  kind  and  attentive — 

Lady  T.  Ay,  so  I  was,  and  would  always  take  your  part 
when  my  acquaintances  would  abuse  you  and  turn  you  into 
ridicule. 

Sir  P.  Indeed ! 

Lady  T.  Ay ;  and  when  my  cousin  Sophy  has  called  you 
a  stiff,  peevish  old  bachelor,  and  laughed  at  me  for  thinking 
of  marrying  one  who  might  be  my  father,  I  have  always  de- 
fended you,  and  said  I  didn't  think  you  ugly  by  any  means. 


412  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

Sir  P  Thank  you. 

Lady  T.  And  I  dared  say  you  would  make  a  very  good 
sort  of  husband. 

Sir  P.  And  you  prophesied  right ;  and  we  shall  now  be 
the  happiest  couple — 

Lady  T.  And  never  differ  again  ? 

Sir  P.  No,  never — though  at  the  same  time,  indeed,  my 
dear  Lady  Teazle,  you  must  watch  your  temper  very  seri- 
ously, for  in  all  our  little  quarrels,  my  dear,  if  you  recollect, 
my  love,  you  always  begin  first. 

Lady  T.  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear  Sir  Peter ;  indeed 
you  always  gave  the  provocation. 

Sir  P.  Now  see,  my  angel,  take  care;  contradicting  isn't 
the  way  to  keep  friends. 

Lady  T.  Then  don't  you  begin  it,  my  love. 

Sir  P.  There,  now  !  you — you — are  going  on.  You  don't 
perceive,  my  life,  that  you  are  just  doing  the  very  thing 
which,  you  know,  always  makes  me  angry. 

Lady  T.  Nay,  you  know,  if  you  will  be  angry  without  any 
reason,  my  dear — 

Sir  P.  There,  now,  you  want  to  quarrel  again. 

Lady  T.  No,  I'm  sure  I  don't ;  but  if  you  will  be  so  pee- 
vish— 

Sir  P.  There,  now ;  who  begins  first  ? 

Lady  T.  Why,  you,  to  be  sure.  I  said  nothing.  But 
there's  no  bearing  your  temper. 

Sir  P.  No,  no,  madam,  the  fault's  in  your  own  temper. 

Lady  T.  You  are  just  what  my  cousin  Sophy  said  you 
would  be. 

Sir  P.  Your  cousin  Sophy  is  a  forward,  impertinent  gipsy. 

Lady  T.  You  are  a  great  bear,  I'm  sure,  to  abuse  my  rela- 
tions. 

Sir  P.  Now  may  all  the.  plagues  of  marriage  be  doubled 
on  me  if  ever  I  make  friends  with  you  any  more  ! 

Lady  T.  So  much  the  better. 

Sir  P.  No,  no,  madam ;  'tis  evident  you  never  cared  a  fig 
for  me,  and  I  was  a  madman  to  marry  you — a  pert  rural  co- 
quette, that  had  refused  half  the  honest  squires  in  the  neigh' 
borhood. 


MISCELLANEOUS    SELECTIONS.  413 

Lady  T.  And  I  was  a  fool  to  marry  you,  an  old  dangling 
bachelor,  who  was  single  at  fifty  only  because  no  one  would 
have  him. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  ay,  madam,  but  you  were  pleased  enough  to 
listen  to  me.     You  never  had  such  an  offer  before. 

Lady  T.  No !  didn't  I  refuse  Sir  Tivy  Terrier,  who  every 
body  said  would  have  been  a  better  match  ?  for  his  estate 
is  just  as  good  as  yours,  and  he  has  broke  his  neck  since  we 
were  married.  * 

Sir  P.  I  have  done  with  you,  madam !  You  are  an  un- 
feeling, ungrateful — but  there's  an  end  of  every  thing.  I 
believe  you  capable  of  every  thing  that  is  bad. 

Lady  T.  Take  care,  Sir  Peter,  you  had  better  not  insinu- 
ate ! 

Sir  P.  Very  well,  madam,  very  well !  A  separate  main- 
tenance as  soon  as  you  please.  Yes,  madam,  or  a  divorce  ! 
I'll  make  an  example  of  myself  for  the  benefit  of  all  old 
bachelors. 

Lady  T.  Agreed  !  agreed  !  And  now,  my  dear  Sir  Peter, 
we  are  of  a  mind  once  more,  we  may  be  the  happiest  couple 
— and  never  differ  again,  you  know — ha !  ha !  ha  !  Well, 
you  are  going  to  be  in  a  passion,  I  see,  and  I  shall  only  in- 
terrupt you,  so  by-by.  [Exit. 

Sir  P.  Plagues  and  tortures  !  Can't  I  make  her  angry 
either  ?  Oh,  I  am  the  most  miserable  fellow !  But  I'll  not 
bear  her  presuming  to  keep  her  temper ;  no !  she  may  break 
my  heart,  but  she  sha'n't  keep  her  temper. 


COURTSHIP  UNDER  DIFFICULTIES. 
Snobbleton  solas. 
Snobbleton.  Yes,  there  is  that  fellow  Jones  again.  I  de- 
clare, the  man  is  ubiquitous.  Wherever  I  go  with  my  cous- 
in Prudence  we  stumble  across  him,  or  he  follows  her  like 
her  shadow.  Do  we  take  a  boating?  So  does  Jones.  Do 
we  wander  on  the  beach  ?  So  does  Jones.  Go  where  we 
will,  that  fellow  follows  or  moves  before.  Now  that  was  a 
cruel  practical  joke  which  Jones  once  played  upon  me  at 
college.     I  have  never  forgiven  him.     But  I  would  gladly 


414  MANUAL   OF   BEADING. 

make  a  pretense  of  doing  so  if  I  could  have  my  revenge. 
Let  me  see.  Can't  I  manage  it  ?  He  is  head  over  ears  in 
love  with  Prudence,  but  too  bashful  to  speak.  I  half  be- 
lieve she  is  not  indifferent  to  him,  though  altogether  unac- 
quainted. It  may  prove  a  match  if  I  can  not  spoil  it.  Let 
me  think.  Ha  !  I  have  it.  A  brilliant  idea  !  Jones,  be- 
ware !     But  here  he  comes. 

Enter  Jones. 

Jones.  (Not  seeing  Snobbleton,  and  delightedly  contempla- 
ting a  flower  which  he  holds  in  his  hand.)  Oh,  rapture  ! 
what  a  prize !  It  was  in  her  hair ;  I  saw  it  fall  from  her 
queenly  head.  (Kisses  it  every  now  and  then.)  How  warm 
are  its  tender  leaves  from  having  touched  her  neck !  How 
doubly  sweet  is  its  perfume — fresh  from  the  fragrance  of 
her  glorious  locks  !  How  beautiful!  how —  Bless  me, here 
is  Snobbleton,  and  we  are  enemies  ! 

Snob.  Good  morning,  Jones  —  that  is,  if  you  will  shake 
hands. 

Jones.  What !  you — you  forgive !     You  really — 

Snob.  Yes,  yes,  old  fellow  !  All  is  forgotten.  You  play- 
ed me  a  rough  trick ;  but  let  bygones  be  bygones.  Will 
you  not  bury  the  hatchet  ? 

Jones.  With  all  my  heart,  my  dear  fellow  ! 

Snob.  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Jones  ?  You  look 
quite  grumpy — not  by  any  means  the  same  cheerful,  dash- 
ing, rollicking  fellow  you  were. 

Jones.  Bless  me,  you  don't  say  so  !  (Aside.)  Confound 
the  man  !  Here  have  I  been  endeavoring  to  appear  roman- 
tic for  the  last  month — and  now  to  be  called  grumpy — it  is 
unbearable ! 

Snob.  But  never  mind.  Cheer  up,  old  fellow !  I  see  it 
all.     I  know  what  it  is  to  be  in — 

Jones.  Ah!  you  can  then  sympathize  with  me.  You  know 
what  it  is  to  be  in — 

Snob.  Of  course  I  do !  Heaven  preserve  me  from  the  toils ! 
And  then  the  letters — the  interminable  letters ! 

Jones.  Oh  yes,  the  letters  !  the  billet-doux  ! 

S?iob.  And  the  bills — the  endless  bills  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  41.5 

Jones,  The  bills ! 

Snob.  Yes ;  and  the  bailiffs,  the  lawyers,  the  judge,  and 
the  jury. 

Jones.  Why,  man, what  are  you  talking  about?  I  thought 
you  said  you  knew  what  it  was  to  be  in — 

Snob.  In  debt.     To  be  sure  I  did. 

Jones.  Bless  me  !  I'm  not  in  debt — never  borrowed  a  dol- 
lar in  my  life.     Ah  me  !  it's  worse  than  that. 

Snob.  Worse  than  that !  Come,  now,  Jones,  there  is  only 
one  thing  worse.     You're  surely  not  in  love  ? 

Jones.  Yes  I  am.  Oh,  Snobby,  help  me,  help  me  !  Let 
me  confide  in  you. 

Snob.  Confide  in  me  !  Certainly,  my  dear  fellow.  See  ! 
I  do  not  shrink — I  stand  firm. 

Jones.  Snobby,  I — I  love  her. 

Snob.  Whom? 

Jones.  Your  cousin  Prudence. 

Snob.  Ha  !  Prudence  Angelina  Winter  ? 

Jones.  Now  don't  be  angry,  Snobby*;  I  don't  mean  any 
harm,  you  know.     I — I — you  know  how  it  is. 

Snob.  Harm  !  my  dear  fellow.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Angry  ! 
Not  at  all.  You  have  my  consent,  old  fellow.  Take  her. 
She  is  yours.     Heaven  bless  you  both. 

Jones.  You  are  very  kind,  Snobby,  but  I  haven't  got  her 
consent  yet. 

Snob.  Well,  that  is  something,  to  be  sure.  But  leave  it 
all  to  me.  She  may  be  a  little  coy,  you  know ;  but,  consid- 
ering your  generous  overlooking  of  her  unfortunate  defect — 

Jones.  Defect !     You  surprise  me. 

Snob.  What !  and  you  did  not  know  of  it? 

Jones.  Not  at  all.  I  am  astonished !  Nothing  serious,  I 
hope. 

Snob.  Oh  no ;  only  a  little —  {He  taps  his  ear  icith  his 
finger  Jcnoicingly.)     I  see  you  understand  it. 

Jones.  Merciful  heaven  !  can  it  be?  But,  really,  is  it  se- 
rious ? 

Snob.  I  should  think  it  was. 

Jones.  What !     But  is  she  ever  dangerous  ? 

Snob.  Dangerous  !     Why  should  she  be  ? 


416  MANUAL   OP   BEADING. 

Jones.  Oh,  I  perceive.  A  mere  airiness  of  brain — a  gen- 
tle aberration— scorning  the  dull  world — a  mild — 

Snob.  Zounds  !  man,  she's  not  crazy  ! 

Jones.  My  dear  Snobby,  you  relieve  me.     What  then  ? 

Snob.  Slightly  deaf— that's  all. 

Jones.  Deaf! 

S?iob.  As  a  lamp-post.  That  is,  you  must  elevate  your 
voice  to  a  considerable  pitch  in  speaking  to  her. 

Jones.  Is  it  possible  ?  However,  I  think  I  can  manage. 
As,  for  instance,  if  it  was  my  intention  to  make  her  a  floral 
offering,  and  I  should  say  {elevating  his  voice  considerably), 
"  Miss,  will  you  make  me  happy  by  accepting  these  flow- 
ers ?"  I  suppose  she  could  hear  me,  eh  ?  How  would  that 
do? 

Snob.  Pshaw !    Do  you  call  that  elevated  ? 

Jones.  Well,  how  would  this  do  ?  (Speaks  very  loudly.) 
"  Miss,  will  you  make  me  happy — " 

Snob.  Louder,  shriller,  man ! 

Jones.  "  Miss,  will  you — " 

Snob.  Louder,  louder,  or  she  will  only  see  your  lips  move. 

Jones.  {Almost  screaming).  "  Miss,  will  you  oblige  me  by 
accepting  these  flowers  ?" 

Snob.  There,  that  may  do.  Still,  you  want  practice.  I 
perceive  the  lady  herself  is  approaching.  Suppose  you  re- 
tire for  a  short  time,  and  I  will  prepare  her  for  the  intro- 
duction. 

Jones.  Yery  good.  Meantime  I  will  go  down  to  the  beach, 
and  endeavor  to  acquire  the  proper  pitch.  Let  me  see : 
"  Miss,  will  you  oblige  me—"  [Exit  Jones. 

Enter  Prudence. 

Prudence.  Good  morning,  cousin.  Who  was  that  speak- 
ing so  loudly  ? 

Snob.  Only  Jones.  Poor  fellow,  he  is  so  deaf  that  I  sup- 
pose he  fancies  his  own  voice  to  be  a  mere  whisper. 

Pru.  Why,  I  was  not  aware  of  this.     Is  he  very  deaf? 

Snob.  Deaf  as  a  stone  fence.  To  be  sure,  he  does  not  use 
an  ear-trumpet  any  more,  but  one  must  speak  excessively 
high.     Unfortunate,  too,  for  I  believe  he's  in  love. 


MISCELLANEOUS   SELECTIONS.  417 

Pru.  In  lovo  !  with  whom  ? 

Snob.  Can't  you  guess  ? 

Pru.  Oh  no ;  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea. 

Sno b.  With  yourself!  He  has  been  begging  me  to  ob- 
tain him  an  introduction. 

Pru.  Well,  I  have  always  thought  him  a  nice-looking 
young  man.  I  suppose  he  would  hear  me  if  I  should  say 
(speaks  loudly)  "  Good  morning,  Mr.  Jones  ?" 

Snob.  Do  you  think  he  would  hear  that  f 

Pru.  Well,  then,  how  would  (speaks  very  loudly)  "  Good 
morning,  Mr.  Jones  ?"    How  would  that  do  ? 

Snob.  Tush !  he  would  think  you  were  speaking  under 
your  breath. 

Pru.  (Almost  screaming.)  "  Good  morning !" 

Snob.  A  mere  whisper,  my  dear  cousin.  But  here  he 
comes.    Now  do  try  and  make  yourself  audible. 

Enter  Jones. 

Snob.  (Speaking  in  a  high  voice.)  Mr.  Jones,  cousin. 
Miss  Winter,  Jones.  You  will  please  excuse  me  for  a  short 
time.  (He  retires,  but  remains  ichere  he  can  view  the  speak- 
ers.) 

Jones.  (Speaking  in  a  loud  orotund  voice.)  Miss,  will  you 
accept  these  flowers?  I  plucked  them  from  their  slumber 
on  the  hill. 

Pru.  (In  a  high  falsetto  voice.)  Really,  sir,  I — I — 

Jones.  (Aside.)  She  hesitates.  It  must  be  that  she  does 
not  hear  me.  (Increasing  his  tone.)  Miss,  will  you  accept 
these  flowers — flowers  ?  I  plucked  them  sleeping  on  the 
hill — HILL. 

Pru.  (Also  increasing  her  tone.)  Certainly,  Mr.  Jones. 
They  are  beautiful — beau-u-tiful. 

Jones.  (Aside.)  How  she  screams  in  my  ear.  (Aloud.) 
Yes,  I  plucked  them  from  their  slumber — slumber,  on  the 
hill — HILL. 

Pru.  (Aside.)  Poor  man,  what  an  effort  it  seems  for  him 
to  speak.  (Aloud.)  I  perceive  you  are  poetical.  Are  you 
fond  of  poetry  ?  (Aside.)  He  hesitates.  I  must  speak  loud- 
er.    (In  a  scream.)  Poetry — Poetry — POETRY ! 

S2 


418  MANUAL   OF   READING. 

Jones.  (Aside.)  Bless  me,  the  Avoman  would  wake  the 
dead !     (Aloud.)  Yes,  miss,  I  ad-o-r-e  it. 

Snob.  Glorious !  glorious  !  I  wonder  how  loud  they  can 
scream.     Oh,  vengeance,  thou  art  sweet ! 

Pru.  Can  you  repeat  some  poetry — poetry  ? 

Jones.  I  only  know  one  poem.     It  is  this : 

You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age — Age, 
To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage — Stage. 

Pru.  Bravo  !  bravo  ! 

Jones.  Thank  you !    Thank — 

Pru.  Mercy  on  us !     Do  you  think  Pm  deaf,  sir  ? 

Jones.  And  do  you  fancy  me  deaf,  miss  ?    (Natural  tone.) 

Pru.  Are  you  not,  sir  ?    You  surprise  me  ! 

Jones.  No,  miss.  I  was  led  to  believe  that  you  were 
deaf.     Snobbleton  told  me  so. 

Pru.  Snobbleton  !    Why,  he  told  me  that  you  were  deaf. 

Jones.  Confound  the  fellow !  he  has  been  making  game 
of  us. 


\ 


RAGE. 


MELANCHOLY. 


I 


Prone. 


Vertical. 


Clasped. 


Applied. 


Fold«d. 


Crossed. 


Enumerating. 


Touching. 


te  36874 


M209502 


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